


AI: Angelic Intelligence

by melanie1982



Category: A.I. Artificial Intelligence (2001), Supernatural, destiel - Fandom
Genre: AU, DestielIsCanon, Gay Sex, M/M, M/M kissing, Sci-Fi, becauseAImakesmecry, becauseDestielmakesmecry, becauseIcan, m/m anal, m/m oral, m/m rimming, plotholesyoucoulddriveatruckthrough, sentient robot, skewered fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-26 21:09:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 26,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9922190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melanie1982/pseuds/melanie1982
Summary: tentatively finishedI like the movie AI: Artificial Intelligence.I got to thinking about the similarities between sentient robot 'David' and the character Castiel. Neither is human, but each longs to be human, and each has/learns human characteristics.This may fail horribly. You have been warned.I don't own the Supernatural characters. I don't own the characters from AI.Fiction.I make no money from this work.Character parallels:Dean is the new 'Monica' for this ficCas is the new 'David'Dominic (original character) is the new 'Martin' in this fic (but rather than being Dean's child, Dominic is Dean's comatose lover)All other characters are original characters. Some have parallels in the movie, others don't.If you haven't seen AI, this fic will make little to no sense to you.





	1. Chapter 1

The year was 3000 A.D.

The human race had (somewhat) successfully established contact with alien races. Life on other planets was now a reality rather than a science fiction fantasy. Mechas, or mechanical servants, were commonplace, bordering on the passe.

Much of the human race had been wiped out by floods the century before, and the water levels had yet to recede. Those humans left had become even more fervently obsessed with improving their enjoyment of life, for who was to say how much time they as a species had left?

Humanity, for better or for worse, has always been obsessed with pushing boundaries - 'playing God.' Dr. Kenesis, one of the most brilliant and determined technological minds of his time, lived by the credo: "If it CAN be done, it SHOULD be done."

What better way could there be to 'play God' than to attempt to create an advanced being? Not an extra-terrestrial in the traditional sense; more of a .. celestial being - an angel, created by humans and programmed to obey its owner's will.

Such a feat had never been accomplished. Mechas were wired to function in human ways, mimicking earthly speech patterns, mannerisms and temperaments; angels - true angels - were created to obey God, not humans. They behaved in distinctly non-human ways; their thoughts were not their own (unless they fell and became demons).. Could a human-made angel truly exist?

Dr. Kenesis was determined to make his vision a reality.

What human wouldn't jump at the chance to have their very own custom-made angel, a being both temporal and eternal, carnal and spiritual?, he reasoned. Gleaming tributary plaques and giant dollar signs shimmered in the good doctor's mind as he set about his latest task.

What no one but Dr. Kenesis knew was that he had once known his very own angel. The details surrounding the end of their contact were complex, but the short version was that the angel had fallen in love with her human charge, and the consequences of that breach of angel-human protocol were felt on several planes. 

Still. HIS angel had been vulnerable; this new, improved being would be virtually indestructible. This new creature would be incapable of romantic love or sexual desire.

The funding was there. The research and development teams were in full steam. Within months, Dr. Kenesis' prototype was ready.

Now, he simply had to find the right person on whom to test his latest toy.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean pressed a hand to the glass, feeling its cool, smooth surface warm to his palm. The face of his lover, Dominic Matthieu, remained motionless, unaware of the watery eyes fixed upon it from the wrong side of the glass.

Three years. For three years, Dean had been coming to this cryo-stasis facility to spend time with his love. Dominic had not aged, unlike Dean, whose own face bore the faint lines etched by grief and sleepless nights spent in his research lab, desperate to find a cure.

He had long since given up repeating the noble lie that his work was for the good of all. No. It was for Dominic. The rest of humanity held little appeal to Dean; the members of his team, the administrative assistants who brought him coffee and reminded him when it was time to go home, the hover-cab drivers - all of them were means to an end. Dean viewed his fellow humans with detachment, much as he might inspect a microscope slide or a chipped beaker. Humans were expendable, vulnerable, changeable, and it simply wouldn't do to become attached to any of them.

Dominic was his world, and that world was currently on lock-down within a broken shell, a forbidden universe in microcosm. 

"Hey, Dom. It's me. It's Dean."

The doctors and nurses knew better than to disturb him during these visits. If Dr. Winchester wished to speak to any of them - if he deigned to stoop to their level - he would do so at his own pleasure. The man had more degrees and letters behind his name than several of them put together, and his reputation bought him a lot of leeway. Rules bent for him, but did not break.

"I had another break-through this week, Dom. The molecular analysis passed the first three rounds of scrutiny, so now it's just a matter of a test run. I'm looking for a host, somebody with the same or similar condition; then we'll know."

Dominic continued to sleep, only Dean knew it was more than sleep. Time had stopped for Dom, and would not start again until Dean had the cure in his hands.

Dean himself had enjoyed excellent health, being among the elite of earth's severely-depleted population. He was considered a very eligible bachelor to both men and women alike, but his work, coupled with his devotion to Dominic, prevented any possibility of romantic entanglement. It had been a long three years, but Dean was as stubborn as he was educated, and he had fought the very human impulse to seek comfort and pleasure in the arms of another.

As Dean continued to tell Dominic about his latest progress, a man in a pristine white lab coat approached the glass and titanium cocoon. "Dr. Winchester?"

Dean looked up at the man, noting his salt-and-pepper hair and kind eyes. He must be new here, Dean thought; everyone else knows to keep their distance and wait for me to approach them.

Before Dean had time to formulate that sentiment into harsh words, Dr. Kenesis spoke. "I'm a big fan of your work, Dr. Winchester. Your last piece on the quantum mechanics of stars and their effect on the human psyche was most enlightening, even if it did undermine my previous ten years' worth of Mecha research."

That grabbed Dean's attention. He decided to hear this man out. "I'm glad you were able to keep an open mind. It's always a bitter pill to swallow when a fellow researcher contradicts our own conclusions, but bending to the new scientific evidence takes integrity. Takes even more to admit to it."

Dr. Kenesis took Dean's words as the closest thing to flattery he was likely to get. "I have a proposition for you, from one scientist to another. Do you have a minute?"

Dean glanced back at Dom. Leaning in, he murmured, "I'll see you again soon. Sweet dreams."

Dean wondered about the oils left on the glass by his skin, the handprint comprised of whorls and spidering lines, the DNA he once dreamed of mingling with Dom's... Would he ever get to touch Dom, truly touch him, ever again?

The two men stepped into a small office to discuss Dr. Kenesis' proposal.

It would alter the course of Dean's life forever.


	3. Chapter 3

"You can't be serious."

Dean had tried to be patient, to hear the man out - but this idea he'd cooked up, the notion of providing a surrogate Dominic, made, not of nuts and bolts, but of some ethereal hodge-podge, a heavenly Frankenstein of mythical proportions - sounded like an abomination.

"Please, Dr. Winchester. You and I both know that science can not advance without testing. This being I've created is special, is elevated beyond the highest reaches of Mecha technology - "

"You can't 'make' an angel. They aren't Orga, and they aren't Mecha. My God, man, can you imagine the ramifications of an artificial angel run amok?" Dean shuddered at the thought.

Dr. Kenesis had tried to rationalize his proposed course of action. Now, he changed tack, appealing to the emotional side he knew was buried beneath Dean's grief.

"Dean. Please. It's been three years. Even with the advances being made by the most brilliant minds, yourself included, there may not be a cure - at least, not in time to be of any use to you. To Dominic."

If looks could kill, Dr. Kenesis would've flown through the floor-to-ceiling window and fallen into the surrounding forest in bloodied ribbons.

"He may not wake up. This could be our greatest chance to find out what an asset an angel can be to a human in need."

"He has to wake up. You don't - " Dean ran a hand over his mouth, stopping the words. Swallowing the pain. It tasted of bitterness and defeat. There was a grain of truth in Dr. Kenesis' impassioned speech, and it was working its way into Dean's shell, irritating him. Making him open up.

"If the test is a failure, I am prepared to make a considerable donation to your own research facility. Or, perhaps a grant to the cryo-stasis center? Whatever you'd like."

Dean considered it. He could use the funding, as well as the contacts Dr. Kenesis could provide. "I want to look over your prototype data - every program code, every sample of - of - whatever you've used to build this.. thing," he choked out. 

Dr. Kenesis readily agreed. "I have a file prepared, right here, ready for your consideration. When you're satisfied that the design is safe and functional, I can bring the prototype here for pick-up, or perhaps - "

Dean suddenly felt an irrational pang of guilt. Retrieving the artificial angel in the very building where Dominic slept would feel like a man sullying the marital bed with a fling.

"Not here. Bring it - bring it to my residence. I'll take delivery of it personally."

Dean was already perusing the data, and as he realized its ingenuity, he felt the irritation grow. Dr. Kenesis took the newfound silence as an encouraging development, and excused himself.

Dr. Winchester continued to read, his heart sinking with each page.

Damn it.

This thing might actually be .. a 'good' thing.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean watched as the object - he'd since learned it was a male prototype - was carefully unpacked from its protective casing.

The face was so deceptively human, intricately detailed beyond the level of even the high-end Mechas. The hair moved with the breeze caused by the central air; the eyelashes cast slight shadows upon rounded cheeks, and the chin sported slight stubble. Dean wondered if and how the facial hair would grow; he didn't like full beards, and really disliked mustaches. Would he have to shave the thing, or would - ?

Dean stopped himself mid-thought. This being would not be his lover, not in the traditional sense. A companion, yes, but more on the level of a pet or a housekeeper. This creature - whose working label was 'Castiel,' for reasons Dr. Kenesis would not disclose - was not going to replace Dominic in any real way; his appearance was of little consequence. 

"Here are your imprint keys," Dr. Kenesis said, handing Dean a sheet of paper upon which were several neatly-printed words.

"How is that different to any Mecha on the market today?," Dean snapped, put out.

"HE is different, Dr. Winchester, in the sense that Mecha can be reprogrammed for a new owner, whereas Castiel can not."

Dean's blood ran cold. "Meaning what - that I'll be stuck with him for life, no matter what?"

Dr. Kenesis sighed. "If the test is a failure, Castiel can be permanently deactivated and dismantled. I wouldn't lumber you with him for eternity."

The doctor gave the final instructions, and left Dean with these parting words.

"When you're ready to activate your angel, use the keys. Then make sure to adhere to the manual. There could be serious legal and ethical ramifications if you violate the user terms, not to mention - "

"I get it." Dean softened a little. "Thank you for your trust in me."

"I look forward to your feedback, Dr. Winchester." With that, Dr. Kenesis excused himself.

Dean was left alone with the unconscious Castiel. 

"I alone have the power to awaken this being," he whispered aloud. "He will imprint upon me, and be entirely dependent on me. Almost like.. a child."

Dean surveyed the form, suspended in an upright stance, eyes closed, not moving. Castiel was dressed in a button-down shirt, black dress pants, non-descript black socks, business-appropriate shoes, and, oddly, a beige trench-coat befitting a film noire private eye. 

Here goes nothing, he told himself.

Reading from the sheet, he said in a clear, firm voice:

"Open. Heart. Wings. Magic. Peanut Butter. Bridge. Symphony."

Nothing happened, and for a brief moment, time stood still, Dean's mind thrown into confusion. Then he remembered.

Placing a hand upon the back of Castiel's neck, he slid his fingertips upwards, sweeping beneath the hair to find the almost imperceptible switch. Once activated, the switch would dissolve into Cas' skin, meaning he could not be 'switched off'.. unless he was destroyed. 

As Dean watched, Cas' eyes opened, and Dean found himself startled by the color therein. More than that, there was an emotion visible there which Dean couldn't quite name. Was Cas programmed to look upon his owner with such intensity and recognition, or was he simply reflecting something present in Dean's own eyes? Some would call it 'expectation;' others, 'hope.'

"Hello. I'm Dean. Winchester," he added as an afterthought. Introducing himself to an angel as 'Doctor' felt like it would've been the verbal equivalent of a big-dick contest. 

Even so, it sounded feeble, hesitant, and Dean cursed himself inwardly.

"Hello, Dean. Winchester. I am Castiel. I am your angel."

Dean nodded. "That's right." Was Castiel always going to respond to things so literally? 

Cas did not move, nor did he speak further. 

Dean cleared his throat. "Would you.. Would you like me to show you around, Castiel?"

Castiel spoke in an odd, clipped manner, similar to Mecha, but distinctive in tone. "That would be appropriate. Thank you, Dean. Winchester."

I'm going to have to address that name issue; my angel sounds like a voicemail greeting, Dean mused. With that, Dean proceeded to show Cas around his new home.


	5. Chapter 5

The first few days were.. awkward. Castiel had been given the guest bedroom, down the hall from Dean and Dominic's master suite, and it was there he spent much of his time while Dean was at work: praying, meditating, reading, or simply staring at an object with utter fascination.

The artificial angel seemed enamored of any form of light, natural or otherwise. Creating shadows, prisms, reflections and so on amused him for hours on end. It was endearing, in a strange sort of way. Dean again compared Castiel to a child; his limitless need to study, to understand the world around him, coupled with his naivete about earthly life, made him seem fragile, and brought out a protective side Dean hadn't known he possessed.

Castiel did not ask where Dean went, nor what he did while gone. Dean wasn't sure how much information, if any, he should impart about the world beyond his walls. Wasn't a controlled experiment better, like confining a car's test drive to a specially-designated driving course? The outside world consisted of too many variables, he told himself.

Or was there another, less scientific reason for keeping Castiel a secret? Dean pushed aside the thought.

Dean had provided Castiel with various outfits, including sleepwear, though Castiel greeted Dean's return home dressed in smart-casual clothing and his trench coat more often than not. There were books at various reading levels, as well as a radio, but neither of them watched television; Dean didn't want to rot his angel's brain or overload his senses with that just yet. Dean would leave Castiel instructions for household tasks, most of which were completed by means of grace (first under Dean's watchful eye, and then, when he was satisfied that that was safe, in his absence). The home was clinically immaculate, but there began to be a sense of peace about the place, something Dean hadn't realized he'd missed. Ever since Dominic..

Dominic.

Dean's research was still progressing, but not fast enough. He knew from experience that the next breakthrough would hinge on one thing, some ingredient x or factor y which he simply hadn't thought of yet. Dr. Kenesis, in a show of gratitude and good faith, had allowed Dean access to his own work insofar as the law would allow, and it helped - but the cure was still out of reach.

Dean's last break-through had been fast-tracked for human testing, and was successful in reanimating a 'frozen' patient - but only in a physical sense. The consciousness, the anima, the 'soul' for lack of a better word, was not in evidence. The patient reverted to a comatose state within minutes, retaining bodily functions, but with no brain activity. Like Dominic, the patient was a shell of a person.

How could you isolate what could not be seen, or extract what could not be quantified? 

Dean decided to probe the mind of Castiel. Perhaps somewhere within his 'divine' knowledge lay the answer to Dean's problem.

It was Friday. Castiel had prepared dinner as instructed, and had just activated the electric fireplace, when Dean arrived.

"Castiel, I'm home."

Castiel did not appear at the door, and Dean felt a wave of unease rising within his gut.

"Castiel?"

Dean rounded a corner into the living room, and it took every ounce of self-control to keep from screaming in horror. Castiel's hand was alight, the flames wicking up along his arm at alarming speed.

"CASTIEL!"

Dean rushed to the kitchen, grabbing the fire extinguisher. Within seconds, Cas was coated in flame retardant foam, blinking in incomprehension.

"What are you doing, Dean? Is it a game?"

Dean felt his breath coming in ragged pants. "Castiel.. You're.. You're not hurt." The clothing was beyond ruined, but there was no damage to the skin now visible; even the hair was intact. 

"No. I am not hurt. My clothing is changed." Cas was looking down at himself, surveying the charred rags with curiosity.

Dean wanted to shake him, but refrained. "Castiel, what.. What happened?"

Castiel looked Dean in the eye, unflinching. "I read a story of angels visiting men inside of a fiery furnace. The angels were not hurt, Dean."

Dean exhaled slowly, easing himself onto the sofa. "Castiel, that book.. Some of those stories are.. They aren't literal. They aren't scientific."

"I don't understand."

Dean couldn't look at him like that, standing calmly in his tattered clothing, covered in white crap. "Castiel, please - go and clean yourself off. Then dress in different clothing."

Castiel did as he was told. Dean heard the sounds of running water in the bathroom, trying not to wonder what Castiel looked like naked. Had he been made gender-neutral, like a walking Ken doll? Did angels have genitalia? The Bible spoke of them as being genderless, but as he'd said, that book wasn't -

Cas' prompt return derailed his chain of thought. Dean turned to survey his angel, who was now clad in his blue striped pajamas and bare feet.

"Am I to be punished, Dean?"

Something inside the man crumpled. The pajamas were too baggy, hanging from his frame, making him seem smaller, younger. How did age work with angels? How did it work with *artificial* angels? "No, Castiel. Come and sit down."

Castiel sat on the edge of the sofa's cushion, several inches separating the two forms. His spine remained ram-rod straight, his face placid.

"Castiel.. Humans use words in different ways. You - you can only speak the facts, objective statements. Humans can use symbolism, or slang, or .."

"Poetry?" Castiel asked.

"Yes. Exactly. Not everything people say or write is to be taken as absolute fact."

Castiel considered this information. "So the story is not true."

"I didn't say that. I wasn't there, Castiel; it may have happened that way. But you are not those angels, and this is not a furnace; you are not to play with fire again. Do you understand?"

Castiel seemed to be processing Dean's words. "I will not play with the fire again. It has displeased you, and ruined my clothing. I am sorry."

"Damn the clothing, Castiel. I'm just glad you're okay." What did it take to destroy this creature? What would happen to Dean's new working relationship with Dr. Kenesis if Castiel became broken? 

"Clothing does not have a soul, and can not be damned. Furthermore, I do not have the authority to damn or save anyone. Is there anything else you require of me before I lay very quietly in my bed until morning?"

Dean felt a strange twitch begin on one side of his face and spread to the other. It was called a smile. The whole situation was absurd. His LIFE was fast becoming absurd.

"Yes, Castiel. Let's have dinner. Then, while we do the dishes, I'll try to explain about stories and words again, just to be sure you understand."

Dean moved to the table, motioning for Castiel to follow. During a lull, Castiel spoke.

"Humans write a lot of stories, songs and poems. Perhaps.."

Dean waited. "Yes?"

Castiel continued, haltingly. "Perhaps someday, you will write something about me, Dean. About the fire, or some other thing I have done." 

Dean looked at Cas for a long moment, watching as he resumed chewing. If the man didn't know any better, he'd have sworn Castiel was blushing.


	6. Chapter 6

A month had passed, and the fire incident had largely been forgotten. Dean's visits to Dominic had begun to change, first in their duration, then in frequency. Spending time with someone who couldn't see or hear you was draining on a man, and every visit left Dean with a stronger sense of having failed. Dominic began to feel like a dream from long ago, rather than the shining hope of the future he had once been.

Castiel had continued his routine: prayer, reading, meditation, more reading, interspersed with whatever household tasks Dean had assigned for that day. At some point, Castiel had begun to take initiative in small things: folding the napkins in a different way, or rearranging the kitchen gadgets. Soon his independent decisions spilled over to other rooms; re-organizing the bookshelf seemed to fascinate him.

Dean arrived home to find Castiel in his new, unsinged dress clothes and trench coat, waiting with an expectant look on his face.

Steeling himself for a surprise, Dean asked what Castiel was waiting to show him.

"I have re-arranged your work notes, Dean. I have also taken some of my own."

Dean held his breath and counted backwards from ten. "Castiel, you aren't supposed to touch my work things."

Castiel was unfazed. "You instructed me never to go into your study, Dean, and I have obeyed that instruction. Your notes were in piles on the dining table."

Dean realized he'd opened himself to that one, leaving his work spread out in a shared space. "You're correct, Castiel. I forgot to put them away before bed."

Castiel seemed almost human in his eagerness. "May I show you?"

Dean agreed, ignoring his need for the restroom in order to humor his angel and figuring it would only take a moment. As he began to look at his own notes, comparing them to Cas', his eyes grew wide.

"Castiel.. These are.."

How long had Cas taken to come up with these formulae? They'd need hard testing, of course, but if his calculations were correct, these notes were going to move Dean ahead by leaps and bounds.

"This is incredible, Castiel. How did you..?"

"I read all of your books, Dean. I arranged the books in order of importance, with your writings first. I placed Hawkins and Einstein after yours, followed by.."

Castiel continued to rattle off a litany of great scientific minds, Dean shaking his head in disbelief.

"You are displeased. You are saying no to something."

"Castiel, I'm not as smart as those other scientists." He continued to look over the work. "I may not even be as smart as you."

Had Dr. Kenesis somehow programmed Cas with this information, or had the angel truly come up with it on his own?

"I merely tapped into the universal knowledge, Dean. Is that not what you do? Is that not what the others do?"

"Sort of. Just not at this level."

Dean knew it was time. He was slightly jealous and definitely needed to pee and he was scared as hell, but he knew he'd have to let Castiel go to work with him. If he was as good with the hands-on work as he was with theory..

"Castiel, you may have given me an answer to three years' worth of prayer with a few hours' work."

A flicker of emotion illuminated the angel's face, then dissolved. "I am pleased for you, Dean. You are welcome."

Castiel was told of Dean's plans for the following day, and for the first time in his existence, Castiel felt something unpleasant and heavy inside.

The human name for it was jealousy.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean had had to give a stern talking-to to his entire team. Castiel was to be confined to Dean's lab, and no one else was to go in or out of that room without Dean's express permission. 

They arrived early, and worked side by side all day. Castiel's acquisition of knowledge seemed to increase exponentially as his two-dimensional book learning came to life in three-dimensional apparatus and real-time results. By lunchtime, Dean was struggling to keep up.

Castiel prayed while they worked, the odd word or phrase being vocalized here and there, though most of his supplications were confined to his own mind. Dean was not a religious man, but it was hard to deny that something greater was at play here.

One day turned into two, and then to a week. Castiel had been holding back questions, and they were burning him, though he had no word for the sensation he was experiencing. The angel had never known physical pain or any other discomfort in a human sense, though he now understood that fire was very bad for all Orga and somewhat bad for Mecha. 

Over Sunday dinner, Dean seemed excited, chewing more forcefully and squirming in his seat. Castiel wondered why.

"Castiel, I'd like to take you somewhere on Monday."

"Of course, Dean."

"Not to the lab, though. I want to take you to a different place."

Castiel tried to guess inside of his head. He spent a lot of time guessing things: what Dean would say, what he would wear, what would make his mouth turn upwards at the corners and his eyes reflect more light - 

"Castiel?"

"Where shall we go, Dean?"

"I'd like to introduce you to the people who are taking care of Dominic."

Castiel knew that name. Dean had said very little about the man during waking hours, but he heard it sometimes in his almost-sleep. Dean sounded sad when he said it, and Castiel did not like Dean to be sad.

"Of course we will go. We will meet the people who are taking care of Dominic."

Dean wondered why Castiel seemed less enthusiastic. "Will you miss going to work? Is that it?"

"I want to do what you want me to do. Should I miss work?"

"It's okay to enjoy things, Castiel. It's part of existence. Even Mechas have preferences. Sort of."

"Then I very much enjoy working with you, Dean. And I will enjoy going to the other place."

Dean told himself he was reading too much into things. Angels couldn't have true emotions, he reminded himself.

\--------------------------------------  
Dean was bursting with pride over Castiel's accomplishments. The cryo-stasis team got pretty excited, too. Soon the group had co-opted Dean, firing endless questions at him, taking copious notes. The buzz in the room was palpable; a breakthrough was within reach, they just KNEW it.

"Thank heavens!," one researcher joked, and the others laughed. Castiel wondered why it was funny; worship was a serious, holy matter.

A repeat visit was scheduled for Wednesday. Tuesday night, Dean sat Castiel down to tell him what to expect.

"Now, Castiel. I need you to trust me. I'm going to ask something of you - I already got permission from Dr. Kenesis - and I need you to listen and understand what I need from you. If this idea works, you could be a modern-day miracle. You'd.. You'd pretty much be bringing the dead back to life."

Castiel was uneasy. "I do not wish to have such power, Dean."

"I know, I know. But, Castiel, this idea.. If we can figure out how to convert some of your grace into a form suitable for humans, we could potentially heal people of all known illnesses and injuries."

Castiel's eyes grew wide, a trait humans and animals exhibited when frightened or surprised. "That sounds very dangerous, Dean. What if the grace causes harm? In the worst cases of suffering, healing is God's domain."

This wasn't going to plan. "Please trust me. If this doesn't work, the patient will be no worse off than she is now. If it does work.. You could be a savior."

Castiel resigned himself to Dean's plan, though he did not like it. "I hope that it goes as you want it to, Dean." Then, "Is it alright if I go and lay very quietly until morning?"

Dean knew Castiel didn't *need* food, but, well, it was nice to have company. Still, perhaps it was better that Castiel prepare for the morning. "Alright, Cas. I'll see you in the morning."

Dean's hand patted Castiel's back three times, dismissing him. Castiel knew that humans had many ways to show affection; hard pats were called slaps or smacks or blows, and they indicated anger or an assertion of dominance - except in cases involving copulation, where hard blows could be used to enhance intimacy. Castiel wondered what the gentle pats meant in Dean's mind. He wondered why he hadn't voiced more objection to Dean's plan. "I do not want to place my grace into a female vessel," he thought as he gazed at the star-patterned light show on the ceiling. 

Castiel admitted, to himself and to God, that he would only ever willingly give his grace to Dean.


	8. Chapter 8

This was a top-secret security clearance event. Only the most trustworthy were allowed in, Dean and Dr. Kenesis heading the operation, each man bringing his strongest, brightest team members to the table.

The patient, a woman named Mara, was gradually thawed over a period of several hours, just enough to make her tissue pliable.

Castiel was laid out on a gurney, dressed in a hospital gown. He did not feel cold, nor was he embarrassed at his immodest dress, yet Dean felt protective of him.

"Castiel, we're going to hook you up to the machine now. I need you to stay very still." Dean was in charge of Castiel, while Dr. Kenesis monitored Mara.

"Yes, Dean. You know I am very good at laying still for you."

A snicker came from somewhere in Team Mara's direction, but was quickly stifled. 

Mara was similarly connected to a central conductor. Its long appendages resembled vacuum hoses reaching out and attaching to strategic points on both Cas (donor) and Mara (recipient). Monitoring Mara's vital functions was crucial; any significant drop or spike, and the test would have to be immediately abandoned. Mara's family had already signed a release absolving the center of any liability, yada yada, but this went deeper than potential lawsuits. This was literally life and death.

The machine hummed to life, and Castiel felt the vibrations jarring his form. The first few minutes, there was no noticeable change in Mara's body, but by the fifth minute, slight twitches began in her fingers and toes. Soon there was color in her cheeks, and her bodily functions began to occur independently of the life support machine. No one spoke, each team taking it in turns to record every change, second by second.

Castiel did as he'd been told, remaining very still.

At approximately the twenty-ninth minute, Mara's eyes opened, and a flashlight was shined into her eyes. "Pupils dilated," the doctor exclaimed. "She's responding to light!"

Castiel wondered if humans saw the colors of the spectrum without prisms, the way he did.

"You're doing great, Cas," Dean said. He was wound so tightly, Castiel could hear the muscles straining.

Mara's lips began to move, her teeth chattering. "Blankets. Give me the blankets," said one of Dr. Kenesis' team. A thermal rescue blanket was placed over her, reflecting her own body heat back into her skin. She looked terrified, disoriented, but the poor woman probably had no idea she'd been 'dead' and on ice for six years - 

"P-p-p-please," she managed, and a female researcher rushed to her side.

"You're alright, Mara. It's okay. We're doctors; you've been very ill, but we're treating you."

Mara seemed to calm, saying nothing more.

Everyone bit back whoops of joy, not wanting to send Mara into cardiac arrest. Soon she was moving her limbs, the combination of grace and other substances reanimating her.

Mara was allowed to sit up with assistance. The cryo process had kept her muscles from atrophying too much, and she held her position, staring at the strangers in the room.

"You," she said aloud, looking right at Cas. "You prayed for me. Last night. I heard you. I saw you.."

The hallucinations of a diseased mind in an altered state, or had Cas somehow astral-traveled? Didn't that imply some deep, spiritual mysteries at work?

"I did pray for you," he replied, not sitting up. "I am glad you are healed."

The teams knew the next few days would be the true test. Mara could deteriorate like the patients before her- but Dean had a good feeling about this.

Mara's case had been more severe than Dom's. If it worked for her.. 

Mara and Cas remained linked up to the machine and, thus, each other, for two solid hours. Castiel spoke only when spoken to, staring passively at the ceiling as he waited. When both teams agreed to disconnect, Castiel sat up. Dean surveyed him for any signs of outward change, finding none - other than a hint of something akin to human sadness. 

Self-congratulatory handshakes and banter flew thick and fast, Mara was moved to a recovery room for further observation, and Castiel was free to go.

On the way home, he stared out the window, watching the light change into the colors of early evening. He could hear the sounds of creation, the harmonizing vibrations; he could see shades of light and dark which no human could ever hope to perceive, for their bodies and minds were not designed to see them.

"You alright, Cas?"

"Of course, Dean. I can not be truly harmed, unless I am deactivated." Castiel hoped that Dean would never choose to deactivate him. Perhaps this 'test' had proven his worth for the long term.

"I know that. I meant.. inside. How quickly does grace replenish itself?"

Castiel continued to answer questions as they came, and Dean had plenty. Each of them knew what was coming, and yet not a word was said about it.

Castiel pondered it all during his quiet time, as Dean lay sleeping in another room, lost in dreams of a future with the man he pined for.

When had Dean begun to call him 'Cas'? His name was Castiel, chosen by his maker, but Cas knew that humans often shortened their own names or the names of those dearest to them as a sign of familiarity, or even affection.

"Nonsense," Castiel sighed. "Humans can not love angels in that way. Dean can not - "

Castiel wished, for the first time in his existence, that he could truly sleep - for in sleep, humans seemed to forget things which upset them.


	9. Chapter 9

Castiel had known it wouldn't be long until the day came for him to 'heal' Dominic.

He was anxious - anxious that it wouldn't work, and then, later, anxious that it would.

Angels were supposed to help, guide and protect; they were not supposed to have individual reactions to specific humans, choosing whom to save and whom to shun.

Perhaps Castiel had a design flaw which rendered him incapable of caring for Dominic beyond a nebulous dream of pleasing Dean. 

Time ran out for such ponderings.

The machine was brought in as before. Castiel knew what was expected of him, and got into position without even being asked.

It took longer this time, and there was less of a crowd; Dr. Kenesis had left the entire operation in Dean's hands, confident in his abilities to handle any eventuality.

Dominic did not respond until the fourth hour, and did not open his eyes until nearly the sixth. Dean didn't understand that; Dom's case of the illness had been less severe than Mara's, and she had recovered far more quickly.

By the twelfth hour, Dominic was able to speak. Castiel sensed, rather than saw, the reunion taking place just feet away from his prone form, for he could not bring himself to watch such an intimate and, to him, foreign exchange.

"Dominic. It's me."

Dominic rambled, almost incoherent. Dean began to panic; Cas could smell it on him. Dominic did not seem to know who Dean was.

"Baby.. It's me. How are you feeling?"

Dominic attempted to communicate, Dean having to interpret the best he could. Whatever the man had endured during his 'time away,' it had not been pleasant. The two others in the room took notes, concerned, though on a professional level; for Dean, it was personal.

Dominic was given slow sips of water. Within an hour of keeping that down, food was offered, of which he ate little. The mechanics of chewing seemed to strain him, and Dean's worry grew.

Not once during all of this did Dean even so much as glance at Castiel. The angel might as well have been a cog in the machine.

The patient continued to function with less and less reliance on artificial means of support, but his cognitive abilities were stunted. Oxygen was administered, but to little effect; a hyperbaric chamber was brought in, in the hopes that submerging him in oxygen would help him regain some coherence. Dean was to be occupy the space alongside him, barely daring to blink, not wanting to waste a moment of what could prove to be a temporary resurrection.

A 'crash cart' of sorts was kept on standby. Dean tried to think positively; even if the damage was permanent, the man he'd waited for for three years was awake. Anything more than that was just details. He had money and connections; Dean could provide for Dominic around the clock if necessary. 

Castiel was escorted home by one of the other team members, and wondered if Dean was aware of his departure. He grappled with something he couldn't name, some impulse to lash out at inanimate objects and raise his voice in an expenditure of energy. Something in him was shifting, growing and changing by the minute. The house seemed empty and 'wrong' in Dean's absence, but he needed this time alone. Prayer and household chores were there for him if he chose them, but Castiel did not choose them. He chose to think, to remain in this agitated state. Part of him wondered if the transfusion process had damaged him somehow, short-circuiting his higher reasoning. No matter what topic he tried to focus upon, Cas' mind came back to the same inescapable truth time and again. 

Dominic would be coming home soon.

As he entered his quiet time, foregoing food, Castiel wondered if there was any way for him to deactivate himself, or to damage himself in such a way that he would no longer be aware of anything.

That thought stayed with him until Dean's return, well after sunrise.


	10. Chapter 10

Dominic had undergone a barrage of tests, both physical and psychological. No one could figure out why his speech was still impaired, nor why his memory was so fragmented. Mara had incredible recall of the life she'd been living prior to becoming ill, but Dominic's mental narrative had huge gaps. Dean tried not to take it to heart that he had been, essentially, forgotten. Forgettable. There was still much to learn about this condition, and to have two survivors who could answer questions and submit to evals would no doubt move them towards, first a cure, and then, preventative measures. Dean didn't want anyone to go through what he (and Mara's family) had gone through, ever again.

Cas had kept things running smoothly at home while Dean practically moved into the center. Being able to work in their state-of-the-art research lab, then walk down a few short hallways to spend time with Dom, was Dean's idea of heaven. Still, it was a time of adjustment. Dominic was not the same man, and, if he was honest with himself, neither was Dean. Dean's sense of humor had all but died during his lover's illness, lying dormant until Castiel sparked it back to life.

That thought unnerved him. How could something not human provoke such a human response? True, Castiel was never *intentionally* funny, but he had a way of making Dean see the humor in things, the light in life. The fact that Castiel was bound to him, imprinted to Dean for his entire existence, weighed on the man. How would Dominic respond to Cas? Would his presence help recovery, or complicate things? Would Cas' magic work for Dom the way it had worked for him?

Dean placed a phone call home. Cas, as always, answered on the first ring.

"Hello, Dean."

"How do you always know it's me?" Dean noted the smile in his own voice. Cas' speech was still so.. odd, and yet, there was a warmth to it, a depth. Dean needed to remind himself they were different. Cas was 'other.'

"I don't know how I know. I just know."

"How are things at home?"

Dean listened as Castiel recited a list of household tasks he had completed, what books he'd been reading, and what formulae he'd been working on. The irritation melted away from Cas, and he almost forgot about Dominic. Almost.

"Listen, Cas, I didn't get to thank you the other day. So.. Thank you. You're an ang - , uh, you're amazing."

Cas paused. "I did as I was required, Dean. I am glad that I was of help, and that it pleased you."

Dean felt something unpleasant, a note of warning, rumbling low in his gut. Mistaking it for hunger, he began to wrap up the call. "Do you have food? Have you been eating okay?"

Cas' voice sounded more.. strained? "I do not require food in order to live, so I have not been eating. I do not enjoy it without your company, Dean."

What did one say to that? 

"Well, we'll be home soon. I'll swing by the house tomorrow morning; I need to grab some clean clothes and a few of my notes, and I'll have a list of tasks for you."

Cas knew. So soon? "I look forward to seeing you, Dean."

It was true. The rest of his thoughts, however, went unsaid.

Dean wished Castiel a good night, then hung up.

Food did not allay the uneasy feelings growing inside of Dean, but, even though Cas didn't sleep, Dean did not want to disturb him in the middle of the night. Curling up in the bed beside Dominic, smelling the bleach and antiseptic soap of the sheets and the man, respectively, Dean nodded off into strange dreams.

\-----------------------

Castiel decided not to have quiet time in his bed. He chose several books from the shelf, laying them out on the dining room table in an orderly fashion. Turning to a fresh page in his notebook, Cas began to write in halting script, drawing inspiration from the words of poets and prophets in the books, finding his voice. It did not serve any practical purpose, he realized, but humans were always creating things which served no purpose other than to be funny or beautiful or frightening or strange. Humans wrote because they had feelings behind the words, and they shared those words in order to provoke feelings in others. 

The first line began at the very top of the page, leaving no gap, for nothing should go before this statement. It was his truth, the first fact of which he had ever been aware.

'I am Castiel.'

He was unique in all the world. No other Castiel had come before him, and that made him special. Perhaps he could explain it to Dean, write down his proofs and persuade Dean to keep him - that he had value beyond the sum of his parts.

'I was created to serve, but I also enjoy serving. I am happy to make you happy.'

Castiel crossed out the word 'happy.' How could he know what that emotion felt like - what *any* emotion felt like? He tried again.

'I want to make you happy.'

That was true enough.

The rest of the words came slowly. Cas found himself stopping several times, concerned of what Dean would think or say of his work.

Some of the words did not rhyme, but some of the poets' words did not rhyme, either.

"This would be easier in my own language, but you would not understand it," Cas said aloud, imagining a conversation with Dean. 

Humans seemed to think aloud, and Cas had picked up the habit. Speaking to the empty air made it seem as though Dean was close to him, and Castiel liked that idea. It was like praying, only.. different. 

After hours at that table, honing his words until he was satisfied with them, Castiel placed the books back on the shelf. The pages he felt were complete remained affixed within his notebook, where he could revisit them in future. When Cas felt the time was right, he would share the words with Dean - perhaps in the morning.

With that, Castiel retreated to his room, wondering whether Dean would cry over them as he sometimes did while reading his books.


	11. Chapter 11

Dean arrived home as promised. Castiel wondered if Dean would see anything different about him, or express having missed him. The latter proved true - sort of.

"It's good to see you, Cas," Dean said, and it was validating in ways Castiel hadn't anticipated.

"It is good to see you, Dean. What is on the agenda for today?"

Dean felt guilty, knowing Cas hadn't been to work for several days. On the other hand, he needed Dean's supervision for that, and Dominic took up most of Dean's time. It was best for everyone if Cas learned to stay at home and blend into the background, at least for now. 

Dominic was set to come home in two days' time, and Dean needed Cas' help in getting everything ready. Dom's immune system was still not at optimum levels, so a deep-clean and some creative furniture rearranging were in order to help make Dean's home less overwhelming for him.

Dean worried that Dom wouldn't remember the place, just as he remembered almost nothing else of their life together prior to his illness. It was everyone's hope that being back in his old surroundings would jog his memory; Dean was thankful that, at the very least, Dominic remembered he was gay, and that his attraction to Dean was there on some level.

"I need this place to be super-clean, Cas. Dominic is very vulnerable to germs, so we must make sure he doesn't get sick again anytime soon."

Cas wanted to ask whether Dean was dissatisfied with his normal housekeeping, but did not.

Dean continued. "I'll also need to.. uh.. borrow your room. It's closer to the bathroom, and, well, Dominic will need to be able to get to it quickly." Dean cursed himself for never having an en suite put in for the master bedroom; it was such a simple, practical request from Dominic, and he'd put it off. Perhaps when his health improved and he felt more settled in, they could allow workmen to install one.

Cas blinked slowly, a gesture which he knew often indicated that humans (and some animals) were thinking deeply. He wanted Dean to see that he was thinking deeply about something, and Cas also wanted Dean to pick up on the other level of meaning behind that gesture: a sign that the blinker was not entirely happy with what they had just been told. "I see. Where shall I put my belongings, Dean? Would Dominic like those to become his as well?"

Dean clenched his jaw. Had Castiel just.. had he just employed *sarcasm*? Even Mechas were incapable of such a thing; had Cas been programmed for it, or..?

"Cas, you'll be sleep - uh, staying, in my room for now. Feel free to transfer whichever of your belongings you feel you'll need into my room."

Dean had slept alone for three years. The small guest bedroom was going to be, not 'my' room, but 'our' room. Something was nagging at the back of Dean's mind, but he quashed it before it could fully form. Having Cas in the house had been .. pleasant. Not the same as having his lover, not by any means, but it meant something to him to have someone expecting him when he arrived home, someone to ask about his day or just sit in comfortable silence with him. Cas was so good for him; he hoped Dominic would benefit from his presence, too.

Dean could not have known how often Cas had stood outside of his door, using his heightened hearing to listen to the deep, rhythmic rise and fall of Dean's chest and the strong, steady pace of his heart. Cas knew that, had he been human, he would most likely have experienced guilt from such an activity. Cas was somewhat glad to be other than human at those times.

Cas, had he been human or even advanced Mecha, would have realized what Dean was still refusing to face: Cas was being gradually phased out and replaced. There was every possibility that, if and when Dom recovered enough, Cas would become disposable. The artificial angel found the new arrangements to be strange, perhaps unwelcome - but then the notion of sleeping in Dean's bed, of being allowed inside of such an intimate space, began to appeal to him, allaying his unease. Cas had rarely been inside of Dean's room, and only with permission; now, he would have unrestricted access to it.

"Well, Cas, let's get started. There's a lot to do!"

Castiel enjoyed the times when he and Dean did activities together, and the prospect of cleaning house together made the task more tolerable, distracting him from the purpose behind it.

Dean did not watch much television, but some evenings, they listened to music - wonderful symphonies, or vocal performances with words in other languages from places which now lay beneath miles of water. Cas loved Italian opera the best; it had a lilting cadence, a softness, which German and French seemed to lack, and it was so close to Latin, the ancient language. Castiel enjoyed learning Latin words from Dean, Dean having a background in the dead tongue as part of his pre-med studies. His thoughts continued to race from one subject to the next, and Cas began to wonder if something was technically haywire inside of him. Mecha sometimes malfunctioned; was that possible for him?

"Dean.. I am the only one of my kind."

"Yes, Cas."

"So.. What happens if I.. malfunction? If I stop working in my intended manner? What will become of me?"

Dean stopped mid-scrub, looking intently at Cas from the opposite side of the counter. "Cas, you don't have to worry about that. Leave worry to the humans, okay?"

Cas tried to let it go, but couldn't. "Dean.. I wish to remain here always. With Dominic's return" - the name passing over his lips felt like a curse, damning him, possibly damning Dean, or maybe even damning them all - "and with the new living arrangements.."

Dean looked uncomfortable. His lips pursed, indicating he did not like what was trying to come out of them. His eyes widened, then glanced to a spot beside Castiel, avoiding direct eye contact with him. His color changed, and Cas knew that all of those signs meant Dean was upset. Was he upset at the thought of Cas being gone, or the fact that Cas was asking him about this?

"Cas.. It's going to be alright. I need you to believe that. I need you to pray for it to be alright, to meditate on it always. Okay?"

Castiel was so utterly still, Dean wondered if he had somehow shut down.

"Okay?"

Castiel nodded, then affirmed. "Okay. I will, Dean."

The rest of the evening passed in less strained exchanges. The matter wasn't settled, though. No way.


	12. Chapter 12

Castiel had never met any of Dean's friends, other than co-workers, and they were usually referred to as 'acquaintances' or 'colleagues.' The idea of Dean having friends, of socializing, seemed foreign to Castiel. It was the day of Dominic's return home, and many people were invited to celebrate with the couple.

The couple. Cas could not fathom it.

He had read extensively about human mating. By the year 3000, no one batted an eye at same-gender pairings, but the majority of pairings were still of one male and one female. Castiel wondered if Dean had ever been in a couple with a female. He wondered about other men in Dean's past, too, but knew it was inappropriate to ask one's .. employer? owner? about such things, unless they themselves brought it up. 

Castiel decided that the past mattered less than the present, anyway, and the present 'couple' was Dean and Dominic. He had been so used to sharing the house with just Dean, and it had almost felt like.. 

No. He could not entertain such ideas.

Guests began to arrive. Castiel noticed how nervous Dean was, anxiously awaiting the arrival of his 'other half.' The guests told stories about Dominic, or about 'the couple,' and Cas listened with interest (and because his great hearing made it automatic), but felt something he could not name as he did so. Dean had not shared these stories with him. Furthermore, the idea of Dean being affectionate or praising or attentive towards any other being but Cas made Cas' unease grow.

When Dominic finally arrived, wheeled in on an antiquated wheelchair, the guests broke into a polite round of applause. Dominic glanced around as if seeing the place for the first time. If he noticed anything different, he did not indicate it.

"Welcome home, baby," Dean grinned, leaning close and kissing Dom on the cheek. His mouth, Cas supposed, was too risky now; too germy. When Dominic was better, of course, they would kiss. They would do other things, things Cas had read about. Human mating. Some called it 'making love.'

Cas had realized something else as he'd moved his belongings into Dean's room: He would not be allowed into 'their' room. That was why Dean had insisted that Castiel gather up whatever he might want or need and move it to his new room. Once the couple were in their room, they were not to be disturbed.

Castiel was, literally, going to be shut out of Dean's life more and more.

There was food to celebrate Dominic's return - trays of cubed cheeses and sliced meats and diced fruits, a bowl of bright fuschia punch, bottles of something which smelled vile to Castiel but which the humans seemed to enjoy in large quantities.. As the guests drank more of the stuff, they began to laugh and talk louder - some of them faster; others, with difficulty. They also began to smell like the drink. It seeped from their pores, and Castiel was displeased at how it made the house smell. 

Dean had some of it, too, though Dominic only had a sip. Castiel watched as Dean hugged a few of the guests, a gesture he had never himself received. Dominic seemed to become overwhelmed, wheeling himself to a quiet corner and staring intently at the bookcase. Castiel felt drawn to his side, though couldn't fathom why.

"I am Castiel," he began.

Dominic looked him up and down. "Okay."

Cas tried again. "I am Dean's angel."

Dom made a sound similar to laughter, but his eyes were not smiling, and the sound was harsher, almost.. unpleasant. "Yeah. I've heard all about you."

Castiel stood a little taller. "From Dean?"

"Yeah. Something about Dr. Kenesis wanting to push boundaries by 'creating' a partially divine being. As if Mechas don't cause enough problems for humans, now we gotta have robot-angel hybrids flying around?"

Castiel made a mental note to ask Dean about the flying aspect. Perhaps he could research it himself? Angels flew in Bible stories, but Dean had said - 

"Did I not say the magic word to get you to respond or something?" Dom narrowed his eyes in contempt.

"I am sorry. I believed your words to be a rhetorical question."

"So what do you 'do' for Dean? I mean, you clean house; I can see as much. I heard you did some work in the lab, too. You take care of his needs while I was gone?"

Castiel did not like Dominic's tone. He did not like Dominic. "I have done everything Dean has asked of me, including sharing my grace with you." Was he going to be Dom's angel, too? What if Dean asked him to go left, and Dom asked him to go right? Whom should he obey?

"I bet." Dominic wheeled the chair towards the balcony, needing some air. Castiel followed, something in him spurring him on. He didn't understand why, but he wanted to try to get along with Dominic.

Outside, the sun was setting. Dominic picked at a hard-boiled egg, finally peeling it, littering shell all over the freshly-swept balcony. He crammed the egg greedily into his mouth, but then, something went wrong. Dom began to flail his arms, one hand flying upward to clutch at his throat; his eyes grew very wide, flashing fear, and Castiel remembered what he had read about humans and breathing:

It was absolutely necessary to their survival.

Castiel's mind lit up like a neon sign: "CHOKING!," and for one insane nano-second, he considered walking away, feigning ignorance of the episode - but Dean.. 

Quickly, Cas hauled Dom up from his chair, positioning him with his back to Cas' front. Feeling for the correct point, Cas applied pressure in hard upward thrusts with his fist, working Dom's diaphragm, forcefully expelling air in an attempt to dislodge the egg. Dom's face was red, then tinged with blue; that was a bad sign. Cas did not want to crush Dominic, but had to risk using more force. With one last mighty push, the egg flew from Dom's mouth, covered in spittle, and the man began to draw in loud gulps of air.

Cas was holding a now-limp Dominic in his arms as a concerned Dean crossed the threshold.

"What's goin' on?"

Dominic's eyes slid toward Castiel, then changed, reviving the fear from its ashes. Cas turned, still holding the man, both of them now facing the door as guests gathered behind their host. "Dean. Thank God you're here. Castiel was going to.. I think he was going to.. to kill me." 

Dean moved forward, looking at his lover. "Are you having trouble breathing,?" he asked as he helped Dom back into his chair.

In that moment, Castiel knew as sure as he knew his own name: Dominic was going to lie.

"Let's talk inside. In private. Please," Dominic asked. Dean agreed. 

"Of course."

The party was cut short, and Castiel was tasked with making sure the guests got rides home. Apparently the drinks made humans unfit to drive safely, so a few of the 'sober' people drove the others home, or called for taxis. The house was quiet, Castiel unsure of what to do. After tidying up the detritus of the party, he cleaned his vessel and changed into pajamas, then laid in Dean's bed.

Dean's.

It still smelled faintly of him, though he had tried to disguise his scent with various products. Castiel preferred that scent to any other he had ever known.

If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine the warmth of Dean laying beside him. The bed was very large, built for more than one person, and Castiel realized that had not helped Dean during Dominic's absence. It must have been very lonely, such a big bed for just one man. Was that why Dean sometimes cried out in his sleep?

Soon, a knock at the door interrupted Cas' thoughts.

"It is not locked," he said, waiting.

Dean entered the room, and it was strange, having to knock in order to access a space usually reserved for him. It was strange, too, seeing Castiel prone, eyes now open, and starting a conversation like this one.

"Would you sit up, please?"

Dean sounded irritated. Cas complied.

"Dominic told me some wild story about you trying to.. kill him. Is that..? Humans take a dim view of violence, Cas, and angels definitely do. What happened out on that balcony?"

Castiel knew from his studies that humans often did not like the truth when it was given to them; however, it was all he had, and he would not lie to Dean.

"Dominic was choking. His food became lodged in his airways, and I performed a procedure to remove it." Then, "If he is injured, I am sorry, but it was not intentional."

Dean stared at him, moving closer. "That part he's told me. There were other things he said, Cas. Is there more to the story?"

Cas blinked. "It is not a story, Dean. It is real. I don't understand - "

Dean's hand swiped over his face. "He said you threatened him.. said something about flying, and you were holding him close to the railing.." A pause. "I mean, you were close to the railing, Cas. He was out of his chair, in your arms - "

Castiel did not want to hear any more, but he knew he must. 

"I would not hurt Dominic, Dean. He belongs to you, and I take great care with your belongings."

Dean sat down, weary. A guest in his own bed.

"Cas.. He's not a book or a plate, something I can replace. He's not even a pet. He's.."

"Yes?"

Dean wasn't sure what to say. They weren't lovers for now; too much confusion on Dom's part. Were they even friends? Without shared memories or common interests and goals, they couldn't - 

"I can't lose him. Not again. It would destroy me. Do you understand?"

Castiel did. "Yes, Dean. He is special, just as I am special. There is only one of Dominic, just as there is only one of me."

Dean couldn't fault that logic, but the emotional implications had him reeling - that, and the three beers he'd had. Plus a wine cooler. There may have been a whiskey in there somewhere.. "Sort of. Not.. totally the same, but.. close."

Castiel's concern switched from himself to Dean. "Are you ill?"

Dean laughed. His laugh was pleasant, unlike Dom's. "I will be in the morning. I haven't let myself drink in so long, I went a little overboard." He turned serious again. "I mean it, Cas. I know you don't like these changes, but, really, they're for the best. You'll see. It's gonna work out."

Castiel had been praying that it would.

"I don't think you would lie to me. I also don't think Dom would lie to me. Maybe it was all a big misunderstanding."

Dean was thinking aloud, and Cas waited before speaking. "If you feel unwell, you should rest."

Dean nodded, stretching as he rose to leave.

"Dean.. If the beverages make you ill, perhaps you should not drink them in future."

Dean laughed again. Castiel liked the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed. He had drawn sketches of those lines in his notebook.

"You're right, Cas. I should drink less. Still; if I didn't drink at all, I would never have met Dom. Good things come from bad, huh?"

Cas decided on the spot that that was sufficient reason for Dean to never drink, ever, but said nothing.

"Good night, Dean," he managed. 

Dean, startled out of a reverie, smiled. "Good night, Cas."

Then Dean did something he had never done before.

Leaning over, he ruffled Cas' hair with one hand.

Castiel stared at the door as it closed behind Dean.

"A sign of affection," he murmured. Cas made himself prone once more, wondering why Dean had done such a thing, why now, and why it made some of his unease go away.


	13. Chapter 13

Dean had spent a few days at home, trying to build a bridge between Cas and Dom. The truce was an uneasy one - as well as being one-sided. Dominic had apparently kept or gained manipulation skills; Cas wasn't sure if they'd pre-existed his illness, or if they were new. 

When Dean finally felt safe leaving the house for a few hours, trusting Dominic to Cas' care, Cas nearly begged him not to go.

Dominic did not accuse Cas of attempted homicide again, but there were other ways to put doubts in Dean's mind.

First were the verbal complaints: allegations of neglect, of food being too hot or the room being too cold, of Cas handling him roughly. Petty stuff.

Dom bruised easily, which made matters worse. Every new mark had to be examined and fussed over by 'Dr. Dean.' Cas knew that, by this point, most humans would have rolled their eyes (or worse).

Castiel had to administer medications at the same time every day, which sometimes necessitated waking Dominic from sleep or interrupting other activities. This created more conflict, but Cas was determined to do all he could to keep Dominic alive and well for Dean.

Dominic was like the plant that received all the sunlight, water, good soil and nurturing it should need, yet still wouldn't thrive. Nobody could explain it, and, while he wasn't getting any worse, he wasn't truly improving, either.

Two weeks passed. Cas was glad that Dean trusted him alone with Dom, but he missed working. Okay, he especially missed working with Dean. Castiel realized he missed Dean, period.

One night, during his quiet time, Castiel heard noises coming from the guest room. He tried to block them out, but that only seemed to magnify them.

"C'mon, baby. You don't have to love me; just.. want me. Please.."

Dean's voice. Cas had never heard him speak in that low, needy tone, other than when he talked in his sleep.

"Dean.. I can't fake it. I'm attracted to you, but this life - it doesn't fit. It's like a hermit crab trying to fit back into an old shell. I can't - "

"So maybe this will help you remember how good it used to be. How good WE used to be."

There were small, wet sounds, interspersed with sighs. 

Kisses, Castiel realized. 

Dominic was kissing Dean. 

Castiel covered his ears with his hands, but the muffled sounds continued to get through. His maker had made him too well.

"I love you, Dom. I know you don't feel it yet, but I do. I waited for you."

Castiel heard the other man whisper, and his name came up as part of a question. As in, "Did you and Cas ever..?"

Dean laughed, saying something lower in response. Then speech turned into sounds, moving farther away from consonants and deeper into the vowels - ohs, ahs and oohs, mostly Dominic's.

Castiel could not listen to this.

And yet he had no choice.

Did Dom know he would hear them? Did Dean?

Were they laughing at him? Was this a punishment or a joke?

At last, Castiel heard Dom's cry of completion. Dean did not pursue his own, and Cas wondered at that. After a few more kisses, the guest room fell silent.

Dean was still fighting for his bond with Dominic. Castiel was 'other,' less-than, different.

Castiel could not continue like this. He had to find a way to explain things to Dean, to make him understand: Castiel was not Mecha or a pet. He was real - as real as could be. 

He deserved better than this life.

He deserved Dean Winchester.


	14. Chapter 14

Things had changed in the house by the time morning came. Castiel rose to find the couple already at the table. They had made their own breakfast, and, Cas noted, there was only enough for two.

Things were worse than he had feared.

Dean was polite with him, but his eyes were for Dominic. His smiles were for Dominic. The two of them seemed to be sharing in an incredibly funny unspoken joke, and Castiel wondered what it might be.

"What's so amusing?," he innocently asked.

"Castiel, clear the table." Dom had said it, so haughtily, as though he had the right, as though he - 

"Dom, that was harsh. Besides, he's MY angel." Clearing his throat, Dean said, "Castiel, *please* clear the table. Thank you."

Dom frowned. "You thank people, or even God - not 'things.'"

Castiel did as he was told, gripping the plates hard enough to feel them begin to give. He eased off, not wanting to destroy them. The couple were having a debate about the personhood or lack thereof among beings of artificial intelligence. Castiel was most interested in hearing Dean's take on the matter, but Dominic whispered something in his lover's ear, and Dean nodded.

"Cas, we're going to go out today. Would you please follow the usual routine until we get back?"

Cas assured Dean that he would. He spoke only to Dean, and made a note that he should only speak when spoken to. He had gotten into bad habits, ideas above his station.

The couple dressed and 'went out.' Cas completed his tasks, then settled on the sofa to review his notebook.

Other than a few sketches, he hadn't added much to its pages since Dom's arrival. The man seemed to suck the creativity out of him.

As he looked at the poetry he had written, Cas felt it was childish and primitive. He suddenly wished he had not been created literate, for then he would not know anything other than what Dean wanted him to know. Cas would not know about things like romance or sexuality unless Dean told him.

Or showed him.

His resolve of the night before came back tenfold. 

Castiel would tell Dean. He needed just the right words; he only had one chance to make this work.

After starting dinner preparations, Cas revisited his old favorites among the books. This time, he would do better. This time, his words would seem humanly delivered and divinely inspired. 

Page after blistering page unfurled before him with barely a pause. When Cas felt it was done, he closed the notebook. 

The waiting was unpleasant. Perhaps he should have one drink, to calm himself?

Dinner beeped in readiness, but Cas did not heed the alert. He was too busy trying to pour one measure and one measure only of what Dean called 'the good stuff.'

That one measure had an immediate effect. Cas wanted to vomit; it burned his throat..

And then it hit him.

He wasn't supposed to feel pain. He had just felt pain, and it went against everything his maker had intended.

Cas realized something else.

When Dean had ruffled his hair, he had felt the warmth. He had felt the closeness. 

Something was very definitely wrong.

Cas drank another measure, then, foregoing the glass, took a long swallow from the bottle. More burning.

Dinner began to singe, then burn. Cas opened the oven door, but it only made things worse. Soon, more beeps and alarms sounded all through the house, and Cas ran staggeringly between them, resetting them, begging them to be silent.

The sprinkler set into the oven's hood kicked on just as Cas retrieved the ruined meal from the appliance. Now he was drenched, feeling the cold. COLD. A miracle!

The pan's heat penetrated through the oven mitt, scalding his hand. Hot. More pain.

Had Dr. Kenesis built him to advance over time?

Just then, Dean and Dominic arrived home.

The first emotion in Dean's eyes was surprise, taking in Cas' dripping wet front, his inflamed hand, and the charred dinner.

The second emotion there was anger.


	15. Chapter 15

Dean seemed to tower over Cas, though it was an illusion. Cas wanted to shrink down and slink away to hide, feeling like a dog caught soiling the new carpet.

"Castiel, what happened?"

The drink was taking hold, making things sound distorted. Underwater.

"I burned the dinner. I am sorry."

Dominic laughed. It was mocking. Castiel's fist clenched and unclenched.

"Dom, why don't you head to our room and order a pizza? I need a minute."

With a simpering face of sarcastic pity, Dominic made his way down the hall. He had used a cane for much of the day, meaning he was getting stronger. Cas tried to be glad of that.

"Castiel, would you join me on the balcony?"

Dean was coughing slightly from the smoke. Cas thought fresh air would help, would clear the house of smoke; they should - 

"Yes, Dean."

Man and angel faced one another. Dean couldn't get over the sight of him.

"You're always so careful. What if this had happened while Dom was here and I was out, hmm?"

Cas felt dizzy, gripping the railing with one hand. "I would not burn him, Dean, because I would not put him in the oven."

Dean did not smile. "This isn't funny. What's going on with you? Should I read the manual again? I don't remember anything about .. this."

Dean had gestured towards Cas' body. 

"I burned myself. Look."

Dean's shock momentarily overrode his anger. "You can't burn. It isn't possible."

Cas saw his segue, and he tried. Really he did. "There are many things I was not designed for, Dean, but which I find I am capable of."

Dean was listening. "Such as?"

Cas eased into it. "Such as enjoying some things and not others. Such as tasting food, or feeling the pain of a burn. Using sarcasm. Wanting affection."

For a moment, Cas thought Dean had understood. "Is that what all this is about? You're lonely?"

Cas waited.

"Cas, I.. I'm sorry. I hadn't considered that, with Dominic here, you could need.. Let me find a way to fix this."

Dean began to search for something on his phone.

"What are you doing, Dean?" The balcony was tipping, pitching left and right like a ship caught in a storm. Cas needed to sit down, but didn't dare move.

"Looking for a companion object for you. I had some as a kid: toys that walk and talk, play games, give hugs. That sort of thing."

Castiel rested a hand on Dean's, freezing him. "I do not need a toy, Dean. I need my human."

Dean waited for the punch-line. It never came. 

Cas lunged forward, Dean catching him in his arms, narrowly avoiding their heads colliding face-first.

"Cas? Are you.. Have you been drinking?"

Cas nodded, head swimming. "You said.. good comes from bad. It's how you began to love Dominic. I thought.."

Dean took a step back. "You thought what?"

Dom's yell for Dean broke the moment, the man and the artificial angel heading in the same direction but for different reasons.

"What's up, sweetie?"

Dominic had the notebook in his hands. "Did you write this?" He had started at the last page, working his way forward. When he found the declaration, 'I am Castiel,' he scowled.

"I don't even know what it is, Dom."

Castiel reached for the notebook, but Dom moved it out of his reach. "Your drunk phony angel wrote poetry. And look - he made sketches of you, too."

They captured Dean's essence precisely, though the features were not perfectly drawn. Dominic was very angry.

"Cas? What is all this?"

He should've tried harder on the balcony. This was worse. 

Still, try he must.

"I wanted to explain to you. It's why I drank, Dean, and why I wrote, and drew.."

"Explain what?"

Dominic looked at Dean with contempt. Was the man truly so blind?

"Explain that I love you. Ask for you to .. to love me as well."

Dean did not move. Cas stumbled towards him, seizing him with a strength even he had not known he possessed, and kissed Dean, who was too shocked to move.

"Get your hands off of him!," Dominic yelled, prying Cas from his lover's body. 

Dean had not kissed back, but he had also made no attempt to break the kiss.

Dominic had noticed that little detail, of course.

"You're playing with fire, Cas," Dean warned. His voice sounded lower, like it did on the night Cas overheard - 

"Get out," Dominic said. As Dean turned to look at him, Dominic softened his tone, but not his resolve. "It's him or me, Dean. This is bullshit. I can't live here with this.. freak who thinks he's in love with you. I told you, the night of the party. He tried to.."

Dean's head hurt. More than that, his heart ached.

"I'm sorry, Cas."

The notebook flopped to the table with a thwack as Dominic discarded it.

"I'm sorry."

Dean left the room to begin gathering up Cas' belongings.

The notebook was left untouched.


	16. Chapter 16

Dean refused to let Dominic tag along. The gloating was oppressive, and he could use a break from it.

How could he have been such a fool?

It wasn't a long drive on a good day, but today, traffic was jammed. There were long, uncomfortable silences, but worse were the times of begging. Of explaining. Of bargaining.

"Please, Dean. I am sorry. I did not.. I should not have.. I will not.."

There were promises, atonements, offers, confessions.. Dean had to stay firm.

"Castiel, I appreciate all you've done for me. You were there for me in every way; you helped me at home, and at work, and you found a way to help me save Dominic - but this has to end now."

Castiel blinked. "You told me not to worry, Dean. You told me things would be alright. Is this alright?"

Dean felt pain radiating through him. "Cas, you're so innocent. Things will be alright - just, not in the way you'd hoped. Dr. Kenesis will take you back. He's your maker, so be sure to - "

"I did not imprint on him, Dean. He did not speak to me. His words did not give me life."

Dean sighed, resting his head against the back of the seat. "No, he didn't. But he made you. You owe him that - your very existence."

Castiel tried again. "I was made by him, but you are the one who cared for me. You .. adopted me. You chose me."

That made no sense. How could he choose Cas, when there was only one choice?

"You are a remarkable being, Castiel, but there are some things beyond your comprehension. This is one of them."

The rest of the trip passed in silence. Castiel wanted to ask to listen to some music - orchestral, or perhaps operatic - but did not.

Dr. Kenesis was warm, if a little sad. "I'm sorry things didn't work out for you. I do hope Dominic is some small consolation," he added wryly.

"Yes, indeed. Thank you, Doctor - for everything."

The two men of learning fell into an exchange about the latest research. Castiel heard something about a series of new prototypes, but his eyes were glazing over. Dean was leaving him here forever, and the two were making small-talk? Had he truly meant so little to the man?

"Castiel.." 

Dean was teary-eyed. Was he going to change his mind?

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I didn't tell you about the world. Humans are.. they can be very selfish. You deserve better than that. Better than me."

Dean gave the doctor a full written account of everything - except for the minor detail of Castiel 'falling in love' with him. 

"Dean."

He said it aloud, knowing he would not have occasion to, nor be permitted to, say it in future.

Dr. Kenesis stood with Cas as they watched Dean get into his car and drive away.

Dean cried all the way home. He had run out of tears, but not out of pain.


	17. Chapter 17

The facility itself was pleasant enough, but Cas began to feel like a thing, rather than a sentient being. The woods surrounding and shielding the building from unauthorized parties beckoned to him, inviting him in with their dark, brooding secrecy.

Then there was the added torture of constant memories of Dean, incessant wondering of what he was doing, how he was feeling, whether he was happy.

If time healed emotional wounds for humans but sometimes took decades or lifetimes, what hope did HE have of the pain ending any time soon? No one ever asked Cas about feelings, and he didn't offer. He had become a specimen to most people there.

Castiel was a scientific wonder, and the team documented his every word and movement. 

"He's almost human," one remarked.

"So emotive now. Do you remember the earlier test models? They didn't portray feelings convincingly at all, but he - "

Cas was given tasks to complete. Some were timed; others occurred under distracting or stressful conditions. At some points, he was left alone, though he knew he could not escape. 

Would Dean agree to see him if he made it back to the house? Would he find his own way there? Was there anyone on earth who would help him on such a quest?

The latest project was top secret; Cas was not told what they were working towards. Nevertheless, he managed to correct some of the errors in the formulae, and within a few weeks, Dr. Kenesis had decided to fill him in.

"We're making Castiel 2.0. Well, technically we're on 7.0, but this model is the one we have utmost confidence in. That's largely thanks to you," he added.

"I don't understand."

Dr. Kenesis led Cas into a secure room - almost like a vault. He retrieved a human-sized case, bringing it to the office adjoining the vault.

"This is the new, improved Castiel. He will emit grace at higher volumes and faster speeds than you, as well as it being a purer type of grace. We've finally isolated the particles which will reverse Dominic's lingering disabilities, as well as countless other people's.." 

Cas zeroed in on the 'new' Castiel as Dr. Kenesis uncovered his face.

He had lost Dean. He had lost whatever freedom he'd had. Now he was losing his identity, the very essence of what made him HIM. 

New Castiels.

There would be better, smarter, kinder, faster versions of himself. 

Replaced again.

At least with Dominic, he'd been replaced by someone who preexisted him. Now? Now he was being bulldozed down in the name of progress.

He was happy lives would be healed. Families and couples would be reunited. Suffering would be relieved.

And yet..

Dr. Kenesis excused himself for a moment, no doubt confident that Cas was well-made and well-trained.

There was so much the good doctor didn't know.

He would learn the hard way in a few minutes.

For that moment, though, Cas alone held the secrets to the mystery of himself.

By the time Dr. Kenesis heard the plate-glass being obliterated, running towards the sound, Cas was in the wind.

The 'new' Castiel was intact - other than the minor detail of the severed head.

Cas ran blindly into the woods on sheer faith, the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things unseen..


	18. Chapter 18

The woods were darker than Cas had imagined as he pushed onward, heading towards something he couldn't name.

He had been enhanced, of course. Viewing him as expendable, the team had surreptitiously (they thought) injected Cas with various substances, documenting the changes. Someone had miscalculated somewhere, giving him too much strength and speed. Cas noticed as he ran that his foot-falls made no sound and left no trace; so they had overdone that, too. Stealth.

Still, Cas knew he was vulnerable. The public was unaware of his existence, other than those in the scientific community, and he was unsure of what would be done to him if someone caught him.

What if they tried to extract his grace, or use him in a breeding program, or any of the myriad horrors Cas had read about in science fiction books?

No. He had to avoid humans.

But what about Dean?

Perhaps he could hide out somewhere and come up with a plan.

A plan which didn't involve making Dominic disappear in any number of illegal ways.

Yeah. That was definitely going to take some time.

\-------------------------------------------------

By his own calculations, which were not perfect, Cas knew, he had begun to feel more human with the loss of grace.

Perhaps his grace didn't replenish itself as previously thought, or perhaps it regenerated in some mutated form, tainting him. 

There had to be a scientific explanation. Miracles belonged in the Bible times.

Cas wished he had his Bible with him. The language was beautiful, and it was one of the few books to be reprinted in new editions continuously for so many centuries. It was a time capsule for humanity, in a way: their hopes, their fears, their love and hatred. 

Cas now understood a little about all of those emotions. 

When he tired of running, he walked. When he tired of that, he stopped. The woods seemed to go on forever; there must be a great many acres of trees in every direction. It hadn't seemed so when Dean had brought him here, and Cas did not recall leaving the facility on the way to Dean's home. He had no frame of reference, no map or guide.

Cas watched the sky change colors. The stars were visible, millions of light years away, as far as his heart felt from Dean. With fewer people on the planet, there was less pollution, and the stars seemed closer than they were.

Was that a clue? Was Cas closer to the edge of the woods than it seemed?

Closing his eyes, he spun slowly in a circle. Perhaps he had navigational skills he was unaware of; at any rate, he had nothing to lose by choosing a random direction.

When he opened them, he was unsure which way was which. Nothing looked familiar. How long had he been spinning? Time seemed distorted, too.

Cas chose a path and set off, picking up speed. The sky darkened overhead, but he found his way. He thought he heard water, and soon he felt the cool air drifting towards him from it. The earth smelled damp; there HAD to be a body of water..

And there was. 

An enormous, seemingly endless body of water. 

As Castiel looked out over the vast expanse of inky black, he realized this had to be the boundary of the floods. 

Skeletal spires of submerged skyscrapers protruded amid the waves, jutting out like the outstretched hand of Ozymandias. Fallen monuments, all; proof of the fallibility of human engineering.

Humans had driven themselves to near-extinction, victims of their own success.

Was Castiel his own being, or just another example of human history repeating itself?

He wanted to go on existing. It was painful and it was messy and it was ever-changing, but, damn it, he wanted it. He wanted it all.

Castiel sat on the edge all night, staring at the waves, wondering what to do next.

It was the first time he had felt truly free and believed that anything was possible.


	19. Chapter 19

Cas decided his best bet was to try to make a crude craft upon which to float. Running back the way he'd come would mean getting closer to the facility, and he couldn't risk it.

Whatever was out there, whoever he encountered, Castiel was ready. He felt like Jacob, only, instead of wrestling with an angel of the Lord, he had spent the night coming to grips with his own existence, complete with flaws. Come what may, he was no longer afraid.

Dean was his dream, and if destiny or God or fate or whatever led him back to his dream, it was meant to be.

If not..

Well, if not, Cas would accept his failure. What choice did he have?

Cas had strength, but no Mecha gadgets embedded within his digits with which to hew the wood into the desired size and shape. Expending grace was risky, but it was the quickest way. 

Within the space of just over an hour, Cas had a rudimentary frame which slotted together log-cabin style, utilizing notches at each end of the beams. He didn't want to rip his clothing in order to make ties, but doing it this way carried risks. Until the craft hit the water, there was no way of knowing whether it would hold his weight, or even stay in one piece.

Castiel slid the raft halfway onto the water, then clambered aboard before it moved out of his reach. The waves created pull, drawing him away from shore. There was no sign of life for as far as he could see in any water-immersed direction, and he had no way to steer; Cas was, literally, at the mercy of the powers that be.

"Up Shit Creek without a paddle" came to mind - one of Dean's favorite phrases. What would Dean think of his raft? What would he have done differently?

Cas allowed his mind to drift along with his body. So far, the wood had held together, but if the weather turned nasty..

Castiel refused to allow himself to contemplate it.

Once he lost sight of the forest's edge, it was impossible to gauge how far he had drifted. Miles, he knew, but how many? He continued to bob toward the east; he knew because he had watched the sun rise from that direction, and was now charting its progression through the skies.

Cas prayed and tried to meditate. The lapping sounds created by the waves made him feel heavy, and at first, Cas didn't understand.

Then he realized: he was sleepy.

How was that possible?

Unable to fight it any longer, Cas placed himself flat on his back, resting. He did not dream.


	20. Chapter 20

As Cas drifted in a twilight state, the lab was reacting to his escape.

He had no implanted tracking device, as he had been intended for permanent ownership by Dean Winchester. Besides, he hadn't been programmed to make such a strongly independent decision as running away. All of his clothing left behind had been freshly laundered, making it useless for sniffer dogs. A staff member got on the phone to Dean, hoping he had something unwashed, something still covered in scent. It was a long-shot; why would Dean keep any of his artificial angel's belongings?

Dean was having enough problems of his own. Far from improving things at home, Cas' departure seemed to place additional strain on the relationship. Dean realized Cas had become a sort of buffer between himself and the rest of the world, specifically Dominic. Dean had already boxed up and donated Cas' things - clothes, books, and other household goods. He'd kept the notebook, for reasons he couldn't understand. By rights, it should have been handed over to Dr. Kenesis and his team for analysis, but it was so personal, so.. *human*. Dean was aware that the scientific community did not have the full trust of the public, and for good reason. Scientists tended to dissect things, sometimes literally, which often changed or destroyed things in the process. Cas' feelings, such as they were, were too good, too pure; they couldn't be broken down into smaller parts or analyzed in a lab. 

What had he done? Cas had simply fallen victim to the same illogical thoughts and behaviors of his human maker; he was made in his creator's image, and thus had flaws. Add to that the fact that he had spent time with a very flawed 'owner,' and it wasn't surprising that Cas had ..

Fuck.

Dean had spent what felt like a lifetime dreaming of Dominic's recovery. All of his efforts, personal and professional, had pushed towards that goal. He now had everything he'd ever wanted, but he had lost - no, gotten rid of - the best thing he'd never known he needed.

Cas.

Dominic didn't say anything the first few times Dean said the name in his sleep. By the fourth time, however, there was a wry confrontation over morning coffee, and the way Dean squirmed and apologized rather than laughing at himself planted seeds of doubt in Dom's mind. There were times when Dean's mind seemed miles away, and Dom soon felt like he was living with a ghost. This man couldn't possibly be the one he had come back for. 

Once Dom was well enough to return to work (strangely, his knowledge of math and science was largely intact, while his emotional intelligence had suffered), the men were able to spend less time together. That helped for a while, but also served to emphasize their difference. The gap opened wider, and soon there was no way to cross it. The bridge had burned.

After being brushed off by Dean for the umpteenth time, Dominic had had enough.

"Dean, we need to talk."

"I'm sorry. I'm .. I've been so tired lately. Rain-check?"

Dom shook his head no. "Dean, I think.. I think I need to move out."

Dean felt fear, but dully, as though the danger had passed and he was simply remembering. "What? What do you mean?"

"I don't think this is working. I.. barely remember you from before, and the man you are now - I can't imagine we had anything deep. We're too different."

Had Dom changed that much, or had Dean simply not seen who he truly was before? 

"You have this fantasy of me in your mind, Dean. But that man, if he ever existed, is gone."

Dean wanted to feel something - sadness, or even anger. He felt empty.

"Is there someone else?" It was a fair question. Dom did not answer. "Dominic?"

He slid off his ring, the one which had been in storage for three years and had only gone back onto his finger at Dean's insistence a few weeks ago. "There isn't anything left to say. It doesn't matter. This life isn't what I want, and it isn't what you want, either."

Dean should care more. He should feel jealousy, curiosity, desperation. What was wrong with him?

"Where will you go? You're leaving now?" Dean heard his own voice, but it felt foreign to him. The questions were perfunctory.

"A friend's. I'll.. I'll put in for a transfer to another department. Maybe another lab."

Dean nodded. That made sense.

Looking around, he noticed there were no pictures of the two of them. Dom's tastes had not impacted the décor, either. He had so few possessions to pack, it was a wonder to Dean that he had ever lived there at all. Nothing about the place spoke of his existence.

Cas, by contrast, was everywhere. The books from that night had been hastily crammed together onto the shelf and had yet to be re-organized. The fire extinguisher needed replacing; it was almost empty from the night.. Dean shook his head. Switching back to the master bedroom had felt wrong, knowing it had become Cas' space for a time. He almost imagined that Cas had a smell to him, trying to detect it as he reclaimed the larger bed.

"When did you know, Dom?"

Dominic looked at his ex-lover with something like pity. Pity laced with contempt. "When you couldn't get rid of that damn notebook, Dean. How many times a week did you go back to it, torturing yourself? I don't write poetry. I certainly don't draw."

It was true. Dean had to smile a little at that; Dominic didn't have a creative or artistic bone in his body. Never had. He had always been so grounded, so practical. They'd been a good fit, once. When had Dean discovered a new side to himself - a romantic side?

"I'm.."

Dom kissed him on the cheek. He had processed most of his anger already, or so it seemed. Dean had never had a break-up be so quiet or so .. mutual. If he was honest, he'd simply been afraid of making the jump, but now, from his vantage-point in mid-air on the way towards the bottom of the cliff, it didn't seem so bad. It was an interesting view.

"I know. I'll see you around, Dean."

The words rang hollow. Without work or sex to bond them, that seemed unlikely.

The door closed, and Dean, for the first time since 'meeting' Cas, was truly alone.


	21. Chapter 21

There could be no public search. Firstly, notifying the public of Cas' existence could create backlash, and secondly, some enterprising thief could capture Cas for personal use or extortion purposes. With a patent pending, the lab couldn't take the risk. They had to keep the search low-key, hoping and praying they'd find a needle in a haystack.

Dom had no ethical quandary, nothing invested in this project now. With a new job at a rival firm, Dom had an ace up his sleeve. His bosses, while skeptical at first, were very interested once he'd offered proof - Cas' scribbled formulae and 'poetry,' painstakingly photocopied - and the decision was made:

They would hold a press conference. If the public found Cas and turned him in to LifeTech, Dom would receive a promotion, and the firm would have the power and the right to dismantle Cas and glean whatever new technologies from him that they could. If the public destroyed Cas, the advances made by Dr. Kenesis would die with him, and LifeTech would still have a running start on catching up with and surpassing Dr. K's work.

It was win-win for Dominic.

Dean didn't watch the news or television in general, but after the phone call about Cas' escape - the call coming hot on the heels of Dom's departure - he had gotten into the habit. Every nightly update on the world made Dean increasingly certain that humanity was doomed, and that only made him miss Cas even more. Anytime something happened which humans couldn't readily explain, Dean wondered: was it angels? aliens? some other supernatural thing? Was it HIS angel?

Eleven o'clock felt later than it did when he was a younger man, but Dean forced himself to watch for at least a few minutes. He was drifting off on the sofa when he heard a familiar voice rouse him from the brink.

"Dr. Mellinger?"

Dr. Mellinger had been a professor at Dean's college who resigned under a cloud of questionable ethics, quickly securing a job with LifeTech. Rumors of espionage, sabotage, and even theft from other facilities had dogged him ever since. What was he doing giving a press conference?

Dean was wide awake now, listening intently.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. This conference is an act of public service to alert the global community of a new threat to our safety and well-being: a new breed of sentient beings which are not classified as Orga or Mecha."

He let that sink in, reporters chomping at the bit for more information.

"This new creature is designed to replicate the habits and abilities of angels - making and answering prayers, performing healings, and other such unnatural acts."

Unnatural? How was helping humanity unnatural? 

"A rival firm, headed by Dr. Kenesis - yes, that's right, KeneticsLab - built a prototype for this artificial angel, which has since escaped from that facility. As of this conference, it is still at large."

Murmurs of unease began to percolate among the assembled. Dean felt the bile rising in his throat. What had he done? Where was Cas? How would he be safe? And how DARE this man continue to refer to Cas as an 'it'? 

Dean's blood ran cold. Dominic must be the mole; no way was anyone at KeneticsLab colluding with Mellinger. His name was mud in respectable circles. Dean was about to get up, to make a phone call and leave a message for Dr. K, when Mellinger continued.

"Furthermore, we have evidence that this 'angel'" (said with such derision) "has developed what it calls 'feelings' for a human. It has demonstrated the ability to make independent decisions, some of them harmful to itself or others. The very fact that it has escaped shows that its behavior is flawed, unpredictable, and potentially dangerous."

Great. Cas was now the year 3000 equivalent of the Boogie Man. Public Enemy Number One.

Mellinger opened the floor to questions, and the reporters were all talking over one another.

As Dean reached for the phone, the lights went out, the television clicking into silence and darkness. 

"This is a nightmare. I gotta wake up.."

Dean stubbed his toe in the dark, cursing. No. This was no dream.

"Cas.. Where the hell are you?"

\-----------------------------------

Dr. Kenesis had no choice: They had to search openly, enlisting any sympathetic staff and members of the public they could get.

Cas was in danger.

Dr. K's only comfort was the knowledge that Cas knew first-hand how treacherous and capricious humans could be.

"I shouldn't have let Dean give him up. I shouldn't have.."

He thought back to his own real angel, the one who had loved him. In these morally gray times, who was to say their love was any more of a sin or crime against nature than any other?

"I shouldn't have given her up, either. I watched Dean make my mistake, and now Cas .."

He couldn't let LifeTech get their hands on Cas. 

He'd find Cas, or die trying.

\----------------------------------------

Cas continued to drift. The sun had risen and set several times, and he still hadn't seen any habitable place or sign of life. He began to wonder if he was built to swim, or if it was possible for him to drown.

Suddenly the winds picked up. Cas couldn't have known about the power outages, as there was no electricity this far out, but the city he'd left far behind, the one housing Dean and all the others he'd known, had been plunged into darkness by the coming storm. None of the weather radars had picked up on it; it was a freak of nature, gathering force at alarming speed.

Cas felt his fingers digging into the wood of the raft, holding on as the waves churned. The water rose higher, blocking the ruins from view, and Cas began to feel real fear.

There were stories in every culture of a great flood destroying the world. Was it happening again?

Cas had nothing else he could do but hold on and pray - for Dean. For humanity. And, lastly, for himself.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Back on land, the waters burst through their barriers, climbing higher with every minute. KeneticsLab evacuated all staff from the first three floors, but most of them didn't make it home.

The others from the fourth floor upwards were trapped, watching in helpless horror as the waters rose. There was no way out.

Dean's neighborhood was further inland, but the waters were unstoppable. Phone lines were down, and at any rate, there was no one to come and rescue him, and no safe place to go. 

The radio, the one Castiel had loved so much, a gift left by his grandfather to Dean's father Bobby, and then by Bobby to Dean, was the only source of news. The radio signal held until the eleventh hour, its automated updates droning into the otherwise-quiet house.

Dean sat on the balcony, slowly sipping his whiskey, Cas' favored Bible open on his lap, anchored by one hand.

"It's all over, Cas. They won't hurt you now."

What would he say or do if Cas was there? Staring certain death in the face made a man focus on what he really felt, who he truly was.

"I'd kiss you, Castiel. Even if it damned me; even if it was something the world could never understand.. I'd kiss you."

Dean spoke aloud, knowing it didn't matter anymore. Nothing did.

Humans had destroyed the earth and damned themselves. 

"We shouldn't have messed with life. We went too far. I went too far."

Then again, could he truly regret the time he'd had with Castiel? Without humans interfering with the divine, Cas wouldn't have existed.

Another shot of whiskey, letting it burn. His eyes blurring from the drink, stinging in the wind and straining in the darkness, he read about the flood destroying all life except those on the ark.

"We deserve it. God shouldn't have given us another chance.."

At least Dominic and Mellinger were screwed, too. All the murderers and rapists and pedophiles and thieves were going to drown. Dean took some comfort in that as the water slapped over the edge of the balcony, surging towards him.

Maybe it was the whiskey; maybe he was just delirious - or perhaps it really did happen. Who can say for sure? In the last moments, the radio seemed to play a jumbled, garbled oldies song, one Dean's grandfather had bought from a history museum as a child.

"Carry on my wayward son  
For there'll be peace when you are done  
Lay your weary head to rest  
Now don't you cry no more.."

Dean heard the words about the sea of moving emotion and the winds of fortune. When the song reached the part about heaven waiting, Dean heard no more.

Everything was swallowed up by water.


	22. Chapter 22

Castiel came to by degrees. The raft was splintered like a pile of broken matchsticks, but he was in one piece.

Sunlight cast the land in a pale wash of visibility, and Cas slowly - for his body hurt - unfolded himself from a crumpled stance.

"What is this place?"

The simple stone structure looked almost like a crude pyramid, though it was all carved of one piece of rock, rather than pieced together using large bricks. The stone was white with a tint of gray making it less dazzling to look upon. 

Cas had an eerie feeling, as though he alone walked the earth. Trying to shake it off, he moved towards the cavernous door of the building.

Steps were difficult on soaked, shaky legs, but he began the ascent. 

It was lonely inside, too, though at least there were strange statues and wall paintings to look at. Some seemed to be words, though Cas was unfamiliar with the languages used.

He didn't know that the floodwaters had destroyed all human, animal, and Mecha life forms. Cas had no way of knowing that the waters were now receding all over the world, revealing the recently-submerged as well as the ancient lost cities. This structure had been underwater for eons, and was now emerging, with Cas being the first creature to see inside of it for countless ages.

There was an energy to the place which was both unsettling and welcoming at the same time. As Cas moved deeper into the space, approaching what appeared to be an altar, he felt it grow stronger.

Most of the statues looked forbidding, but one, a female likeness, made Cas feel serene. Protected.

She held the place of prominence behind the altar. Cas had nothing to place as an offering, but then he remembered.

Reaching into his pocket, he found that he still had the serrated cap from one of Dean's beers. Cas had never understood why he'd kept it, but it was shiny and had a crown printed on it, and it reminded him of a coin. He placed the gift on the altar, the goddess' face still tilted slightly down, a hint of a benevolent smile on her face.

"I don't know how to pray to you, or even if I should," he confessed aloud. "Please. There isn't anyone else to talk to. I've been so alone."

Cas settled on the floor in front of the altar. "If you - or any of the others - would help me, I would be forever in your debt. I need to find Dean. Winchester."

He remembered their first meeting, how Dean had added his surname as an afterthought. He remembered everything Dean had ever said, including the painful things. Especially those.

"Please. Help me find my Dean."

Cas had never allowed himself to think of Dean as his, let alone voiced it aloud. It felt good. It felt right.

"I'm his angel. He needs me. I have to show him that."

Silence.

Cas did not need food, though he had seemed to develop a 'sleep mode.' Days slid into months, then years. The temple was cleaned and cared for, various artifacts uncovered and placed on the altar. No one answered his prayers, at least, not in any way Cas could discern, and still he prayed. He prayed to the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob; he prayed to the gods mentioned in the stories he'd read of other lands and other times. He even invented a few, just to cover all the bases. The goddess, he named 'Mary,' for she felt maternal to him. He had considered Venus, but this love felt so much deeper than lust; Mary encompassed it better.

It had been close to one thousand years, and Cas' clothing had long since worn away, leaving him naked. There was no one to see him, and therefore no reason to be ashamed of his nudity, so he made no attempt to make new coverings.

One day, as he prayed before the altar, a light began to fill the space. Cas continued to pray, and the light continued to grow brighter.

"Castiel," a voice called.

"I am here, ready to serve you," he replied. Samuel of the Bible would have done the same, wouldn't he?

Cas turned, and the source of the light was revealed.

"I am Zaphiel. Heaven has heard your prayers, and we have come to grant you one request in return for your devotion."

Cas blinked. He trembled, though he was not afraid; it was their power which made him quake. "One request?"

Zaphiel smiled. He was beautiful. "Dr. Kenesis made you well, but you also improved upon his work on your own."

Cas startled. "You knew my maker?"

"Of course. He made you because his own angel fell in love with him, and he wanted to know if a new type of angel could be created, to avoid such an event in future." Zaphiel chuckled. "It did not go to plan."

Cas frowned. "Am I to be punished for.. my feelings?"

"No, Castiel. Now, what is your request?"

He had the power to ask for anything in the universe.. but he had no idea where to start. "What has happened to the world since I ran away?"

Zaphiel appeared sad. "There is no world, Castiel. All life is gone. Only you are left."

Castiel felt the temple spinning. "How long have I been alone?"

Zaphiel stiffened. "You always had us, though you did not know it. Life has been gone for nearly one thousand years, Castiel."

"Then I wish to be destroyed. If there is no life, there is no Dean, and I .."

Zaphiel gently placed a hand upon Castiel. "You shall have your rest in due time, Cas. It was not the divine will for life to begin again on this earth until one thousand years had passed, and that time is nearly up."

New life? "Will there be people again? Will there be another Dean?"

Zaphiel seemed to be conferring with someone Cas could not hear. "I have been granted the power to give you one day of any experience you wish. Whatever you liked best about life on earth, whatever you wanted to try but could not try, it shall be given to you now. Just imagine it, ask, and it shall be done."

Castiel could think of no better day than one spent with the man he loved. "I wish to spend the day with Dean, in our - in his home." He suddenly balked. "What if he does not wish to see me?"

The angel smiled. "All will be well. You must understand though, Cas, that once the day is over, you shall be over, too. Nothing made by man can last forever. This earth shall pass away, and ALL things shall become new. You must also take care not to mention anything from the past which might upset Dean, for then the day would be spoiled. He can not know that this is the last day for life on this earth."

Cas agreed to the terms. The temple seemed to became watery and wavy, and Cas found himself sitting in his room, on his own bed, just as he remembered it.

For a moment, he was frozen by fear of the unknown, but the angel tapped him on the head, infusing him with calm.

"Go to him, Cas. He's just waking up."

Zaphiel disappeared, giving them time alone. They were, literally, the only ones on earth, which was both thrilling and terrifying.

Cas ran to Dean's room, boldly opening the door. Dean was indeed waking up, just as foretold.

He smiled, and Cas felt he would spend another thousand years in isolation just to see such a beautiful sight at the end of it.


	23. Chapter 23

Dean's smile gave way to confusion as he tried to remember .. well, anything.

"Are you alright, Dean?"

"Yeah. Sorry. I'm.. I must be a little out of it. I had the craziest dreams.. You were in them."

Cas felt apprehensive, but he pushed ahead. "What did you dream?"

Dean frowned. "You went away. Then there were people after you, and .. then .. a giant flood.." He shuddered. Cas let him ramble for another few seconds, then interrupted. 

"Would you like coffee with your breakfast?"

Dean smiled again, the dream dissipating. "That would be a miracle. Thank you, Cas."

Cas. He was Cas once more - not 'Castiel.' Dean had always called him by name, unlike some people. Unlike Dominic.

Cas reminded himself that he must not mention other people in front of Dean. He had narrowly averted disaster just now; it wouldn't do to have his human upset when they had so little time together.

Cas made coffee and a breakfast of Dean's favorite foods. They ate together, Dean sitting at the end of the counter, while Cas was just around the counter's corner, making them into an L shape. 

"You always know how to make my day better, don't you Cas?"

Castiel tried not to get over-excited. "What do you mean?"

Dean smiled wider. "Well, fixing my favorite foods, getting my coffee just right. I don't know how you do it."

Cas smiled back. "I live to serve you."

After convincing a skeptical Dean that work had been cancelled ("I took the phone call for you, Dean. Something about the city.. fumigating for pests. Did you not hear the phone ring?"), the two were free to relax at home all day. Dean didn't even bother to change out of his pajamas, so Cas didn't, either. Dean hadn't even 'done' his hair, and it was .. cute. Messy.

This was the side of Dean Cas had always hoped to see. 

"What do you do all day while I'm gone, Cas? I mean, once your tasks are completed."

Cas wanted to bring up the notebook. He was sure it must be here somewhere, as he had wanted it to exist, and Zaphiel had promised: "Whatever you imagine, ask, and it shall be done." Perhaps he would have the courage later, when time was almost up.

"Shall I draw you a picture?"

Dean laughed at the human reference, but Cas didn't understand why it was funny. He had meant it literally. Dean sobered, eager for Cas to enlighten him.

Castiel found paper and pencils, and he sketched the temple, inside and out. He drew the goddess he called 'Mary,' as well as the smaller statues there - but he worded his explanations in such a way that Dean believed they were visions during prayers and meditations undertaken in the house. There was the forest of fear, the symbol of the journey from the facility, and the deep waters of despair, which Cas almost didn't mention, but which did not seem to frighten Dean now. Then Zaphiel's likeness formed on one of the pages under Cas' careful hand, and Dean was touched. 

"So you think a real angel brought you to me?"

Cas nodded. "That is how it happened, Dean. I know the difference between symbolic language and literal. You taught me that."

Dean was pleased. "Do you remember everything I say? Every lesson?"

Cas was flustered. "Yes. I also remember the things you don't say. I hear some of them, too."

Dean had to excuse himself for a moment. He'd been so engrossed in Cas' show and tell, he'd neglected to use the bathroom.

When he returned, he had questions. "Do you remember Dr. Kenesis? Are you confusing him with this Zaphiel person?"

Cas decided it was time to change the subject, as this discussion was turning into a dead end. "I do remember him. What shall we do now?"

\----------------------------------

Dean and Cas had spent time comparing their favorite books, particularly poetry. Cas loved Rumi, and Dean surprised him by reciting some from memory. Cas had often wondered whether some of Dean's books were on display just for show, but it appeared Dean had read each of them, some of them several times.

When Dean suggested watching a movie, Cas balked, afraid that the television would not work, considering the people in charge were all long dead. Dean meant a movie on disk, which posed no problem, and they soon settled in on the couch. Dean seemed to be sitting closer than necessary, and Cas tried not to get his hopes up. Dean had not asked about Dominic, and Cas hoped he wouldn't. Perhaps Zaphiel had wiped that part of his memory clean?

The film was a musical, and Cas was fascinated. "I did not know there were so many types of human music," he said, and Dean realized he had neglected to educate Cas on the subject.

"There's a lot more to music than just opera and classical. I guess I haven't been in the mood for any of it in so long, you weren't exposed to it."

Dean seemed to try to remember why that was, but soon gave up.

The movie ended in sadness, and Cas was disturbed. "Why did the movie people make it end badly? Satine did not have to die."

Dean stood up to this. "There was a happy ending for a test audience, but it didn't play as well as the sad ending. Besides," he shrugged, picking at an imaginary loose thread on the couch cushion, "sometimes amazing love stories simply can't end well."

Cas was incredulous. "But she and Christian belonged together. When they finally realized it.."

Dean prompted him. "Yes?"

Cas choked on his own words. "They had run out of time."

It was now afternoon. The day was slipping by too quickly.

"I'm .. sorry?," Dean tried. "I guess I made a bad movie pick. I just.. I really like that one."

Cas sighed. "I like it as well. I just.. the ending."

Dean squeezed Cas' hand. "It's not real, Cas. It's just a movie. Maybe.. Maybe in some other dimension, the real Christian and the real Satine lived happily ever after."

Cas arched a brow. "Alternate realities?"

Dean brightened. "Yep. Parallel dimensions used to be my favorite topic for college essays. I mean, I could argue that any theory I formed was fact in.."

"In another dimension," Cas finished, laughing. Dean was not prepared for how that sound would affect him. Dean felt something between them, something that couldn't exist. Not in this reality.

"Yeah." The feeling grew, their eyes not leaving one another's face as if in search of the answer to a question not yet voiced. Cas looked away first, breaking the spell.

"It is time for lunch." He moved to the kitchen, making preparations, and soon the smell of food had Dean hovering nearby. How could he be so hungry after so little activity?

"I swear, it's like I haven't eaten in years - and we just had breakfast and watched a movie!," he marveled. 

Cas said nothing. What could he say?

Dean had decided that Cas should have the day off from most of his duties, too. He did not ask Cas to clean or spend time in prayer, and even joined in to help Castiel finish making lunch.

"It's like you use magic, I swear. How you make such great meals from my paltry grocery shopping.." Dean chuckled.

Cas knew it WAS magic this time, or perhaps a miracle. He was grateful.

As Dean was finishing his food, a light-bulb seemed to go on inside of his head. "Cas, have you ever made a pie?"

"No," Cas admitted. Cookies, he knew; cakes, he could manage. But he had never made a pie.

Dean began to rummage in the various pantries, amazed to find everything they needed. "I don't even remember buying these," he murmured, then shrugged. Work and stress did strange things to a man, he guessed.

"Something's missing, though."

Dean moved to the stereo, looking for something. 

"What are you doing, Dean?"

"Making up for lost time. I know it's here somewhere.. I've had it stuck in my head all day, and our talk about music got me thinking.. Ah! Here it is."

Dean inserted the disk, and music began to waft into the kitchen from the living room.

"My grandfather got this from his grandfather. I had it digitized so I could keep it; the original is long gone."

Cas had never heard anything like it. The instruments were so different, and the vocals..!

"Come on, Cas, let's.. Let's rock out and make this pie." Dean began to move in a strange manner, which Cas realized must be some form of dancing.

Cas felt embarrassed - for himself or for Dean, he wasn't sure.

Dean began to mix the ingredients together in a bowl, while instructing Cas on the oven setting they'd need. The pie crust mixture looked disgusting, but Cas knew that wonderful things could come from such dubious messes. Perhaps the pie would be the same way.

Dean began to sing along with the music, and Cas admired his courage, if not his skill.


	24. Chapter 24

The pie smelled wonderful. Cas had enjoyed rolling the crust, fitting it to the pan, adding the filling, and then making the crust fit over the top. Dean had told stories of his childhood, and the stories of the generation before his which had been passed down to him. Dean had never seemed so funny, so lively, so.. human.

"This is a most enjoyable day together, Dean," Cas remarked as the two of them rinsed their hands in the kitchen sink, the flour having coated each man's pajamas. If Dean minded the mess, it didn't show.

"It is, Cas. You're so easy to get along with. I love how everything is so interesting to you, so.. new."

Cas wondered where the music idea had come from, or the film. He had not asked for either one, for he hadn't known they existed. How did that work? Another miracle.

Dean suddenly grabbed Cas by the arm. "This song. I'd forgotten this was on here! Come on, Cas! Dance with me!"

"I was not programmed for dancing, Dean. I do not - "

"Just.. do what I do. Let's jam! Yeah!"

Dean began to move rather.. wildly, and Cas laughed, though it was not cruel. He imitated Dean's 'air guitar' motions, and soon they were both gasping, laughing and exerting themselves as they waited for the pie to bake.

Neither wayward son noticed the faint scent of burning coming from the kitchen.

Dean was mouthing the words about being a wise man, and then the part about the ocean.. and he stopped.

"Dean?"

"My dream, Cas. It felt like.. a warning.."

Cas placed one hand on each of Dean's shoulders. "It is not happening now, Dean. It will not happen."

Dean nodded, but the mood was broken. "I.. I need a different song. This one's got me.. yeah."

As he moved toward the stereo, he caught a whiff. "Shit, the pie!"

Cas hurried to the oven, but forgot he could now feel pain. His fingertips touched the metal, and he recoiled, hissing in agony.

Dean, the music now forgotten, rushed to his side. "Cas?"

"I.. It is very hot. I forgot to.. use the.. "

"Oven mitts. Damn it, Cas, I'm sorry. Here; run your hand under the water. Keep it there."

Dean left the oven door ajar, and Cas reminded him to shut the thing off. Cas' skin burned and stung, and Dean realized..

"I remember now. You.. you started to feel. Touch. Pain." Dean was confused again.

"It's alright, Dean. Everything will be alright."

Dean shook his head. "I always told you that. I was wrong, Cas. I.. The dream. I get it now."

Cas couldn't move his hand from the water. Dean's fingers circled his wrist, keeping it under the spray.

"It was a warning against me sending you away, Cas. With you gone.. It was like the end of the world." 

Cas swallowed, hard.

"Everything fell apart. I lost it all. I died without you."

"It won't happen that way. I will always be here." He said it because it was, technically, true. He also said it because he wanted to believe that it meant forever, when really, they had hours left. 

Dean released his grip long enough to retrieve the pie.

"Is it ruined?"

Dean considered it. "It's.. slightly tanned. But edible. Maybe if we put enough cream on it.."

He searched in the fridge, finding what he was seeking. "Perfect. This will make it right."

Cas' hand was feeling better, if not completely healed. "I will prepare it, Dean."

They were going to ruin their dinner, but Dean didn't care. Hell, they could eat pie for dinner - and for breakfast too, if they wanted. Screw it.

"Are you sure?"

Cas was already fetching the plates, setting them on the counter. The pie server showed Cas' reflection in its gleaming surface, and he smiled at himself for a moment before cutting into the crust, feeling the steam rising against his skin.

"It smells wonderful."

Dean agreed.

Once the plates were on the table, Dean remembered. "Oh, the whipped cream. Here, I'll show you how."

Cas had never eaten this before, and watched with fascination as Dean shook the can. When he pressed the nozzle, however, nothing came out.

"Damn it, it's clogged. Hang on; I'll find something to un-gunk it with."

While Dean searched for something narrow enough to fit into the nozzle, Cas turned the can this way and that. He liked the way it rattled, and he could feel the pressure inside of it, the 'thing' which made the food propel out through the small opening. As he considered the nozzle at close range, his finger twitched, and Cas ended up painted in a generous squirt of the stuff.

Dean, hearing the unmistakable sound, rejoined his companion. "Great! You fixed it!"

Had he expended grace without realizing it? Was this a joke on Zaphiel's part?

Dean was stifling laughter. "Never knew you were into facials, Cas."

Cas did not get the reference, though he enjoyed the playful tone in which it was said. "It is cooling, and not unpleasant."

Dean swiped a finger into the gooey goodness, taking some for himself before making another swipe and offering it to Cas. "Try some."

Cas did so, wondering why he felt so strangely. Dean had not expected Cas to wrap his lips around the finger so sweetly and completely. He whimpered in the back of his throat, time standing still. Cas had taken in more of the digit than was necessary, and they both knew it. Did Cas understand what he was doing?

"Most pleasurable," Cas concluded.

"Yeah," Dean said thickly. "Now let's try it on the pie."

Dessert was pleasurable, too, if a little awkward. By its end, Cas' hand had healed.

Dean knew it was wrong on so many levels to feel what he was feeling. He needed to test Cas, to find out whether he could truly understand emotions the way humans could.

"I thought we could leave the dishes for later and, uh, work on some problems together," Dean offered. 

Cas thought that sounded less fun and carefree than the earlier half of the day, but it was nearly sunset, and he did not want to waste time on an argument.

"Very well. What sort of problems, Dean?"

"Well, I've got these, uh, old hieroglyphs. Since you see temples in your .. altered state, maybe we could decipher them together."

Dean was no longer preoccupied with Dominic, or with curing disease? "Is this something you used to study?"

"Yeah. In college, sort of an elective course. I didn't figure there was any money in it, seeing as all the pyramids and stuff are underwater. But now.. Now I have you to help me."

Dean got down his old files, and the two of them spread them over the dining room table. "This is what I've translated so far," Dean said, blushing. "It may be wrong, but.."

Cas looked it over. The first few lines he couldn't read, but the others - they looked familiar. "I have seen this alphabet before." Cas compared the symbols to Dean's translations, and he started to see the pattern. "Fascinating."

"What? What is it?"

"It's a prophecy. Something about angel-human pairings happening once or twice in a generation.."

Dean gulped. "As in, angel angels, or - "

Cas held up a hand for quiet. "The way it's worded, it seems ambiguous."

Dean nodded. "And the rest?"

Cas was tense. "Something about disaster coming if the pairings do not occur. I spent so long looking at these messages in the temple, never knowing.."

Dean regretted his choice of activity. Cas seemed upset. "Do you want to do something else?"

"Are you asking me about my preferences?"

"Well, you seem.. upset."

"I am. I have many such feelings, and I admit I am not expert at repressing them."

Dean saw an opening. "Like what? Feelings like what?"

Cas seemed to flounder. "They are of little consequence. Perhaps in newer models, these flaws will not - "

"I don't want a newer model. I like the one I have." The thought of someone deactivating Cas, or dissecting him, trying to 'improve' him - 

"Dean, I .. I can't say what these feelings are. I only know that they are real to me."

Dean moved to the shelf once more, opening a very thick hard-bound book which had hollowed-out pages. 

Cas' notebook was concealed within the cavity.

"I had to hide it from Dom," Dean explained, and Cas' world screeched to a halt. Seeing his panic, Dean explained, "He's gone, Cas. He left me. I should've left him, or kicked him out.. At any rate, I was wrong. I made the wrong choice."

So Dean remembered. How long..?

"It came back to me during the dancing, all at once. How much I needed you. How much.. I didn't miss him."

Dominic leaving must have occurred after Cas' banishment. Would Dean remember that?

"It's a little fuzzy.. but I know he's gone, and you're here. The rest doesn't matter. Do you understand, Cas? I don't want to remember any time I spent without you."

They were looking at the sketches now. Dean looked so .. serious in the pictures, but the real Dean was smiling. "You did an incredible job on these, Cas."

He turned to a page of text. "'I am Castiel,' he read. "'I am not designed to love in a human sense, but I do.'"

It was too much for Castiel. "Please, Dean. Don't."

Dean continued to read in silence. "They're beautiful, Cas. You wrote because you had to, because you couldn't help it. You wrote from a place of total honesty and trust, and I rejected it. I rejected you.. because I was afraid."

Cas felt his eyes threatening to leak. Tears, they were called. "Afraid of me?"

"No. Of what people thought. Of what I didn't understand. Of.. of this."

Dean cradled Cas' face in his hands, and Cas' eyes fluttered shut just as he saw that the afternoon was burning out and evening was taking its place.

They didn't have much time. Cas needed to make the most of it.


	25. Chapter 25

Cas wondered if there would be some retribution for this act. A line had been crossed, and tales of angels mating with humans did not end well in religious texts.

No lightning struck them. There was no rain, thunder, fire, or any other dark omen as the kiss continued. Dean was being unbearably gentle with him, and Cas wondered if his human thought he might break.

"Is this okay, Castiel? Do you get where this is going?"

Cas affirmed. "You desire to.. be intimate. I have studied human mating, Dean."

"And is that something we could do? I mean, are you built.. the way men are built?"

"Yes. And yes."

Dean kissed him again. "It's all new for you. I should.. I should slow down.."

"It's alright, Dean. Everything will be alright. Just as you said."

It was true insofar that things would be alright until the end. Cas knew enough about humans to know that mentioning impending death would not enhance the mood.

"You sweet-talker, you," Dean smiled against his lips.

The table was not conducive for this sort of activity - not this time. Dean needed soft, comfort, space to move. 

"Cas.. I don't want to hurt you. I feel like.. I've already done so. Why can't I remember?"

"I forgive you, Dean. It doesn't matter now."

Dean breathed him in. His lips were yielding, so human, and he tasted of pie. Pie and love.

"Will you.. my room, Cas. Please?" He'd never been great at this with guys, and Cas wasn't just some guy. He was.. He was 'IT' for Dean. The One. Fuck.

"Of course."

They stumbled down the hallway, neither man wanting to let go of the other, kissing every few steps. Dean worried Cas would bolt, would change his mind; he had to prepare for that. This was already more than Dean felt he deserved.

Opening the door, Cas was surprised to find the room changed. "You added a bathroom," he said aloud. In truth, it was a wet room, every surface geared towards standing up to the onslaught of wet bodies and whatever they might get up to. The shower had no separate floor space, the drain in the center of the floor. There was no traditional shower curtain - just a glass partition designating the shower area. 

"Yeah. We should.. Showers can be amazing with someone to share them."

Cas felt suddenly shy. "I.. Very well."

Dean wanted to feel clean for Cas. Something about washing away the past - like some twisted, pre-sex baptism. Probably best not to analyze that too much.

Castiel had not read of humans showering together, but it made sense. They would already have their clothing out of the way, and Cas very much wanted that - but he was nervous. What would Dean think of his body? 

"You, uh, need some help, Cas?"

Dean asked it over his shoulder as he adjusted the taps, waiting for the water to get hot enough.

"I am able to undress without assistance. Is that what you meant, Dean?"

Dean turned back to him, eyes heavy-lidded. "I know you are. It just.. It can be nice.. having.. help."

Smooth, Winchester. Real smooth.

Cas stood perfectly still as Dean's hands began to unbutton the front of his shirt. His fingers brushed against Cas' chest, and he shivered. The shower stall was now billowing with steam, contrasting with the slight chill as Cas' skin was exposed. 

"I should help you as well, Dean."

Dean had never heard his angel's voice sound quite like that. How much time had he wasted - all due to his stubborn .. pride? fear? This could have been them, every night, the two of them - 

Cas' hands mirrored Dean's, fumbling slightly with the buttons. Soon both men were shirtless, and Dean could have wept at the sight. 

"You're beautiful," he sighed.

"I can take no credit for my looks." He realized he should shut up and take the compliment. "You are beautiful, too."

Cas ran a hand along Dean's shoulder, down his arm, feeling the muscles tighten under his touch, the skin prickling with life.

"We're overdressed.." said Dean, reaching for Cas' waistband. Cas let him, Dean lowering down almost to the floor as he slid the offending garments - pants and underwear - out of the way.

"Castiel.."

Dean had never dared to look upon Cas this openly. Reluctantly, he stood, and Cas took his cue from Dean, repeating the action on his human.

His.

Every part of him.

Dean's naked form was more glorious than Cas had ever imagined. Outside, the sky was darkening, the stars emerging clearer than ever with no pollution to obscure them and no artificial lights to compete with them, but inside - inside was brighter still. Two supernovas were colliding, or imploding, or doing whatever they do, shooting sparks as the two men climbed into the shower stall.

The glass serving as a curtain was coated in condensation, but only sheltered half of the structure. Dean took the side which was not obscured, the mirror on the opposite wall catching his reflection. As in, a wall-to-wall mirror. 

Cas was directly under the spray, and Dean pulled him close. "My angel.." he sighed, and the last syllable caught on a hitch as Cas tentatively rested a hand on Dean's back, just above his hip.

Dean wanted Cas to take the initiative as much as possible, to assuage the sense that he was taking advantage of the angel. Dean wasn't sure if he possessed the requisite self-control to stop this, so it might very well be up to Cas, should he change his mind.

He let Cas take the lead, which meant lots of kissing. Slow kisses; thorough kisses; sloppy, open-mouthed kisses; hard kisses.. Cas needed to try them all, to find which ones made his body respond the best, and, more, which ones made Dean respond.

Dean's trouble, however, was that he was responding to all of them, faster and more strongly than he would've liked.

"Cas.. It's okay to touch me."

"I am touching you," he murmured back. Then he realized. Oh. OHHH.

Cas slid a hand across Dean's back, causing the man to arch into that touch. Bringing a hand around to the front, Cas tested the skin of Dean's chest, feeling the heart beating within, so fast. For him. For them.

Dean's nipples were sensitive, causing Dean's breath to escape in a rush when Cas brushed against them. "I like that."

That was all the encouragement Cas needed. His hand slid further down, to the toned wall of Dean's abdomen, feeling the heat there, the power, then lower still, bypassing his point of need to caress Dean's inner thighs. A whine escaped the man's lips; it was so close, and yet so far.

"Is there something you want, Dean? Something you'd like?"

There was teasing there. G-d damn, but Cas was teasing him. Drawing it out.

"Anything. Everything. Please."

Cas inched upward, exploring the crease of Dean's thigh. With another searing kiss, he cradled Dean's cock in his hand, holding it with reverence, loosely. Just holding.

Dean's hand charted a path over Cas' body, showing him how good it could be, touching him in all the places he liked to be touched. Cas was whimpering with need, understanding now what Dean was feeling.

His grip tightened on Dean, the captive whispering, "This is what you do to me. Only you. I don't want anyone else."

Cas' heart felt like it might burst. He was okay with that, as long as they got to.. first.

"Is this right?," Cas asked, stroking the length of him.

"Oh.. yeah. You mean you never..?"

Cas shook his head. "I was not instructed to do so."

Dean found that funny. "I'm sorry I never asked."

The laughter died as he lost himself in sensation, Cas treasuring every sigh, every moan, watching Dean's face tighten in anticipation. He remembered himself just in time, before he reached the point of no return.

"Cas.. There's so much more. I want.." Kisses. "I want that for us."

Before Cas could think of a response, Dean was easing onto his knees, breathing in the scent of him.

"I want you so much," he said, and then backed up the words with action.

Cas found he had to steady himself with one hand against the wall, watching as Dean worked him with his mouth. They fit together in this way, like they were made for it, like they'd always been made for it. 

"Dean.." Cas couldn't find words. Everything Dean did felt so amazing, he couldn't imagine asking for anything more. His hand threaded through Dean's short hair, savoring the feel of it. Looking down, seeing his lover gazing up at him, his cock disappearing into Dean's mouth, was too much.

"I.. Dean. I feel.."

His inexperience made him susceptible to premature issue, though Cas did not have the terminology for it. Dean, however, understood.

"It's okay, Cas. Just let that feeling take over. I want you to."

Cas groaned. He knew something was about to happen, something new, something good - 

"Dean.."

The mouth tightened, a hand cupping Cas' balls, playing gently, while the other hand gripped the base of Cas' cock, milking him upward into his waiting mouth -

Cas came with a cry, and Dean held on, did not stop, taking it all. Every drop. It tasted like.. heaven. Not salty, but.. He couldn't describe it. Had the Doctor truly created Cas for this sort of act? Why wasn't it mentioned in the manual?

Dean aligned his body with Cas' against the wall, holding him up. "Shh, shh, it's okay. I wanted that to happen. It was meant to. And we can do it again in a while."

Dean was painfully hard, needing release. He felt as if he hadn't cum in years, and he was afraid he wouldn't last long, either, but ..

"Cas. I want you. I want to make love to you. Is that alright?"

Dean was trembling, as was Cas when he answered. "Yes."

"You understand what that is? How it works?"

Cas nodded. "You.. enter me. You enter my body.. here." His hand caressed Dean's ass, dipping between the cheeks, brushing his hole.

"Right. It needs to stretch, Cas. You're not used to.. anything back there. I have to get you ready."

Cas trusted him, and told him so.

They switched places, Dean guiding Cas face-first against the far wall. "I want you to watch us, Cas. I want you to see how beautiful you are. How well we fit together." 

Cas was beyond words. 

"I'll make it good for you, Cas. Just relax for me."

Dean spent several moments making sure Cas was very, very clean. He ducked out to retrieve something, and Cas waited, not looking, his whole body on fire for whatever happened next. Dean's fingers were slicked with lube, and Cas felt them *there*, testing, first one digit, then two. Cas felt full, but he knew he had to relax, to open. He was going to have to be ready to take Dean inside of him. 

The fingers felt good, but they weren't enough. "Look, Cas. Look how sexy you are."

Cas opened his eyes, seeing himself in the mirror. Seeing himself as Dean saw him. Who was this wanton creature staring back at him?

"Is it good, Cas?"

"Yes, Dean. I need.. ohh.."

Dean knew what he needed. "Just stay still for me."

Dean was on his knees once more, and Cas was confused - until he felt the scalding heat of Dean's tongue where his fingers had been. Cas felt himself growing hard, pressing against the wall for relief, his legs apart to brace him upright. 

"I taste you," Dean said. "I love it."

Cas moaned again. It was good, but he needed pressure. He needed to be filled.

Dean moved behind him. "Back up towards me, Cas. I need to.. yeah. Like that, baby. Just like that."

Cas felt overwhelmed, but did as he was asked. Dean was flush against him, hard, slick with the same lube.

"Just breathe, sweetie. I'll make it so good for you."

Cas held his position, letting Dean shape his body as he wished. There was pressure, burning, and then - 

"Almost there, Cas. Just.."

Dean filled him, and Cas froze, his body flooding with the sensation of the two of them joined as one. 

It was so good. Different, yes, new, of course, but good. 

"This is just the beginning," Dean promised.

Cas wanted to believe that, with all of his heart.


	26. Chapter 26

Cas had never imagined it could be like this. He felt Dean's breath on his skin, matching the steam in its heat. Dean's hands gripped his hips in a move both gentle and possessive, and as Dean began to move, Cas felt he might erupt again just from that friction. Dean was slow, methodical, wanting to ease his lover into things, and Cas was pushing back, encouraging more pressure. Cas didn't want this moment, this closeness, to ever end. Dean dropped kisses across Cas' shoulders and back, every inch he could reach, unable to reach Cas' mouth from this angle. Every movement inward claimed another piece of Cas' heart, and every motion back out again left him wanting. Dean was shaking with the effort of holding back, needing harder, needing to cum, but Cas mattered too much to him for Dean to rush this. 

"This is making love, Cas. There are.. so many other ways.. for us .. to fit together," he managed, and Cas keened at the thought of trying them all. If only they had the time..

Dean reminded Cas to look at their reflection again, and he did so, seeing where their bodies joined, seeing a flash of Dean's cock as he pulled back before sliding home once more. It was so much more sensual than most of the videos Cas had seen, so much slower. Was that what made the difference? Or was it the love? It felt like flying, he decided - feeling as if he could sprout wings at any moment like the angels of the Scriptures or the gods of old, or even the fairies of earth-children's tales. Dean made him fly, and Cas prayed that they would never have to come back down. 

"Cas.." Dean called his name on every thrust, and Cas began to answer.

"Yes, Dean. I'm here.. I'm yours."

Dean's hips began to move faster, and Cas welcomed it, the flames climbing higher. He had read that men were often sore after the first experience of this act, and hoped that would not be the case with him; he wanted this again and again for as long as they could stand it.

"Cas.. I can't hold on much longer. I need to.."

"Yes, Dean. I want that. I want that very much. To.. to feel you."

Dean buried himself in to the hilt, making only shallow thrusts now, their bodies pressed close. Cas felt Dean's teeth graze his shoulder, then clamp down as he lost control. "Cas.. yes.. I want you to.."

"What do you want, Dean?" Cas' voice was tight, almost raspy.

"Touch yourself. The way you touched me. Please.."

Dean shifted his angle, and Cas felt the difference, Dean hitting a new spot inside of him and making his vision wash white. "Dean.."

His hand gripped his own cock, Dean too far gone to coordinate both stroking Cas and thrusting inside of him. Next time, perhaps, Dean thought - and then he was beyond coherence.

"Dean.. do not stop." Cas' hand worked busily, soon catching him up to where Dean so badly wanted him to be.

"Now, Cas.. please, God.." Dean let go, and Cas felt it, the sweet, scalding stickiness pumping into him, causing him to spill his own seed into his hand a heartbeat after. Neither of them noticed that the shower had run cold, too lost in each other to care.

Dean stayed inside him until he started to soften, pulling out as gingerly as he could and letting the spray cleanse him (though there was nothing unsavory to be seen). 

Shutting off the water, Dean embraced his lover, gentle kisses bringing them back down.

"Are you alright?"

Cas could only nod at first, until speech returned to him. "Yes. Just as you said. It was.. It was wonderful."

Dean mumbled something through a smile, the words ceasing to matter. The look on his face said everything.

Dean retrieved two oversized towels from a cupboard recessed in one of the walls. They were luxuriously warm, and Dean laughed, charmed by Cas' wonder at such a simple thing. "It's an airing cupboard. I like hot towels."

Cas liked them, too. 

The lovers made their way to the bed, Dean not giving a damn about their soaked clothes on the bathroom floor, nor the puddles their bodies were about to leave on the sheets. "Wait here, Cas."

Dean brought him a warm, wet washcloth, helping him clean up. Such tender care had Cas' eyes threatening to leak once more.

"What is it? Did I hurt you?"

Cas dismissed this. "No, Dean. You.. You were always kind to me. I just.. You were never affectionate. Nurturing. Like you are now."

Dean realized it was so. "I didn't want to cross the line with you."

Cas wanted to let it go, but this was their only chance to discuss this. "That night.. when you put me to bed. You ruffled my hair. That was the second time you'd touched me without a reason to do so. The first was when you'd patted me on the back, but the hair-touching.. it made me want you to stay."

Dean remembered. "Yeah. I wanted to do more, but, Cas, things were different then. Do you understand?"

Cas didn't quite understand; Dean could see it in his face.

"The only thing that matters to me is right now. I don't want to waste any more time. I have this crazy feeling.. like we only have a little while. Something big is coming, Cas. Something we can't control."

Cas said nothing for a moment. "It will be alright, Dean."

Dean kissed his nose, then his chin, before finally zeroing in on his lips. "You're really something, Cas."

It was the vaguest sort of praise, and yet, it meant everything to the angel.

Just being close, naked in the near-darkness, meant the hunger stirred in them again within a short time. Dean normally considered himself to be the aggressor, but Cas was so sweet, so thorough and insistent, that he found himself submitting. When the time came, Cas showed he was a fast study in the art of intimacy, prolonging Dean's climax until the man was begging and promising anything Cas could ever ask for if he'd only let him cum.

The sun was now a distant memory. There were only a few hours left. When Dean suggested taking a meal break, Cas readily agreed. The pie had now cooled, but they enjoyed it in bed, complete with whipped cream - which Dean proved was topping for more than just pies.

Cas laughed, and Dean wondered if it was from ticklishness.

"Yes, Dean, but it also reminded me. Do you remember when I burned myself? This cream looks like the foam you used to save me from burning up."

Dean found it funny, too. "You're right. That foam doesn't taste like this stuff, though. And it definitely .. definitely doesn't taste.. as good.. as you."

Dean's speech was interspersed with tastes of Cas. How was it possible to still be .. hungry, after the feast they had enjoyed? The sheets were littered with crumbs and all manner of interesting stains, and Dean didn't care at all. 

"You do not mind the mess?," Cas wondered aloud.

"Nope. In fact.. I think I'd like it to get messier in here."

This was the perfect day. Cas wanted to spend every moment they had left, locked together just like this.

To die of such joy would have suited Cas just fine.


	27. Chapter 27

Dean couldn't shake the sense of doom. He felt he never wanted to leave the house again, wishing the two of them could stay there forever, pretending they were the only two living beings on earth. 

So much wasted time, he thought, though the tricks Cas was performing with his tongue made it difficult to formulate thoughts.

This was what he'd searched for with Dominic, and with the others before him. Perhaps it was him; he hadn't formed this deep of a connection with any other human. Cas had tapped into the deepest part of Dean's heart, touching his soul, bringing it to life. This was the kind of love which inspired poetry, music, artwork; this was the kind of love Dean had never thought he'd have. As Cas edged Dean to another shuddering climax, the man fell deeper, giving himself over completely. Cas could taste it, Dean's surrender. It was sweeter than pie, melting down faster than cream. Cas couldn't get enough of it.

Cas couldn't bear seeing the sky, how dark it was, and quietly drew down the blinds. Dean was growing tired, and Cas worried that they wouldn't shut down at the same moment, offering up a swift prayer that neither one of them would have to spend a moment without the other. He sensed that his prayer was heard, but would it be granted?

Dean mumbled an apology for his fatigue. "I wanted to take you one more time before sleep," he confessed.

Cas knew there was no use in wishing for what could never be. "Today was perfect, Dean. It was.. everything."

Not quite. Cas could think of one more thing which would make it truly perfect, but it was not right to ask for it. He had already received so many miracles.

They lay together beneath the blankets, tired, achy, and thoroughly messy. Dean backed against Cas, feeling the angel's arm holding him close, his hand resting over Dean's slowing heart.

"I promise I'll make it up to you," Dean murmured.

"Yes, Dean. I look forward to that."

"Cas."

Cas felt himself becoming heavy, slow - humans called it 'sleepy.' "Yes, Dean?"

Dean took a deep breath. Cas felt a clenching in his gut, the beginning of fear. 

"I love you, Cas."

Cas exhaled. The tears spilled out, silently.

"I really do love you," Dean added.

Cas could not blink, could not move.

"I have always loved you."

Cas answered in kind, and Dean settled into the pillow, half-gone.

His eyes closed as if in sleep, but Cas knew. It was more than sleep. The life-force which had been known as Dean Winchester was no more.

Zaphiel began to materialize in one corner of the room, the brightness causing the surrounding objects to vanish from view.

"Castiel, it's time."

Cas nodded, eyes closing. "I am ready."

Zaphiel seemed reluctant to complete his task, but he was an angel of the Lord, obedient to a fault. 

The old things must pass away, and all things must become new.

It had taken over one thousand years, but Cas' perfect, eternal moment had come. Dean had loved him, and Cas had returned that love. Cas had experienced the height of the human experience, as close to a real-life Pinnochio story as he would ever get. While not fully human, Cas had grown to become more alive, more real, than he had ever thought possible.

As Dean had promised, it was alright.

Forever.


	28. Notes

Okay, sooo I didn't have an equivalent of David's journey through the Flesh Fair, a Gigolo Joe character, or a Teddy character. I feel that the drifting on the sea/flood and spending 1,000 years in the temple was a more Cas type of journey. I tried to employ some fairy tale/culture myths/religious stories to draw parallels to Cas' experiences, sort of like David's journey in AI. Cas is childlike in some ways, but not a child, so the fairy story aspect wouldn't work the same way as with a child character.

I also wanted Cas' journey to be an individual one, rather than tagging along with/following the advice of, other characters (David had Joe, the other Mechas at the Flesh Fair, Teddy, and Dr. Know, followed by the 'Blue Fairy' statue and, later, the advanced Mechas.) Zaphiel was sort of the Cas version of the 'Blue Fairy/advanced Mechas' in creating Cas' perfect day from his memories.

The fact that Cas' last day included elements not in his own memory opens the scene to questions: Was Dean truly resurrected for that day? Did Cas simply know things he shouldn't have known? What was real in that scenario, and what was imagined? 

I may fine-tune this story later, but once I get a plot bunny in my sights, I tend to chase it full-speed until I run out of steam. This one would not leave me alone, ha ha, so I wrote it pretty quickly. I know there are HUGE plot holes and it bugs me, so if/when I find a good way to fill in the holes, I will.

I realize crossovers don't tend to get as much traffic as straight canon fics, but I really liked the premise of Cas in an AI universe, so there. 

If anyone seemed OOC, I'm sorry. Sort of. AU is a great blanket excuse, isn't it? 

I also think Cas and Data from Star Trek would have fascinating conversations on humans and their strange ways, ha ha, but I'm not familiar with Star Trek. Like, at all. Or maybe Cas could meet David in an AU? That could be interesting... How would an angel like Cas respond to a robot child who acted, and wanted to be, human? Hmmm.

If anyone needs me, I'll be out chasing plot bunnies. Thanks for reading!


End file.
